Expert Testimony 4: Unhappy Ending
by Mallaithe
Summary: The B.A.U. is tasked to assist in an Interpol investigation of a serial killer jumping international borders. Things get weird when Methos meets a new friend in D.C. - CM/HL until Chp 3 then CM/HL/The Pretender WIP
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N Soooo since Methos went ahead and wacked the 'walker in A Kind of Silence, what will the BAU do when they land a case that appears to be another rogue? Let's find out shall we?  
_**

Prentiss stared at the case file. The profilers were often asked to review cold or stalled cases for departments across the country. There was usually a backlog of such cases. Aside from Hotchner's team there was a second that also handled cases and would profile in the field. Right now both teams were in office reviewing old files. It was rare but it happened. The case Emily had drawn involved the kidnapping and murder of a young girl. She had started to compile her profile and suggestions and been struck with a sense of the surreal. Was this really her life? Was she really going to spend the next twenty or thirty years studying the most despicable creatures imaginable?

She needed coffee.

"Hey Emily." Reid said as she passed his desk.

"Hey Reid, coffee?" She asked nodding toward the break area.

"Sure." He said and got up to follow her. She watched him dump a half cup of sugar in to his coffee.

"Dreams again?" She asked pouring herself a black cup.

"No, I just uhhh I like it that way actually."

Prentiss laughed. "Fair enough."

"Are you okay?" Reid asked sipping his coffee.

"Ah profilers." Emily half laughed and shook her head.

"Yeah kind of hard to hide things." Reid agreed there was an edge to his tone. Emily didn't follow up on it, she knew, as presumably the team knew, that Reid had struggled with an addiction problem. She didn't push.

"Yeah."

"So, are you?"

She stared at him.

"Okay?" He prompted.

"Yeah, I just, I dunno you ever get the feeling that we're just treading water?" She asked.

"No, not at all statistically speaking –"

"I know, I know you're right, you are, we're making a difference, it's just… sometimes." She didn't finish her thought.

"Emily, we face the most horrendous acts committed by ordinary people, it takes a toll, inevitably."

"Yeah, guess I'm just due for a vacation."

"Annual leave is coming up, have you thought about what you're going to do?"

"Oh god probably sleep all day and watch old movies. My mother has strongly hinted that she wants me to visit her."

"Yeah I'm not sure what I'll be doing."

"You won't be visiting your Mom?"

"I don't know. It's always hard going there. "

"Hey what's this? Chit chat at the water cooler?" Morgan asked. He grinned and poured himself some coffee.

"Debating our plans for annual leave." Prentiss said topping off her coffee.

"Ah well I'm keeping it low key, last time I did anything exotic I ended up getting grilled by Jamaican cops."

"So what's low key in Morgan's world?" Prentiss teased.

"Hey, Hotch wants us in the round table room ASAP." J.J. said holding a stack of files.

"New case?" Prentiss asked.

"Don't know." J. J. said and hurried off to tell the others.

"Right." Morgan said and set his mug down. The trio trooped into the room and waited. The rest of the team arrived followed by Hotchner in the rear. He closed and locked the door then drew the blinds.

"What's going on Hotch?" Morgan asked.

"We've been asked to investigate a series of killings by Interpol. They cross several international borders and almost a decade of time." Hotchner said and nodded at Garcia. She nervously hit a clicker and an image appeared on the screen. It was a body, sectioned into pieces, neatly like a butcher had done it.

"Why us?"

"Uh I can answer that." Garcia said.

"Garcia's been moonlighting for Interpol, with permission from the FBI." He added. Garcia's helping instincts didn't always lead her to make the best choices. In the past that had nearly gotten her killed.

"Right, they uh didn't pick up on this guy for years because he's smart. He jumps every jurisdiction you can think of. National, provincial, the works."

"What made you think they were one guy?" Reid asked.

"Well, remember our uh mutual friend? Ben? I saw the first file and one of the investigators had suggested the weapon 'could' be a sword. A lead to B. So I did a deep archive search on all similar murders and voila."

"Do we think it's an immortal?" Prentiss asked.

"We don't know, not yet. We have the summarized cases in front of us the actual files and crime scene photos as well as forensic findings are being sent via secure courier, we should have them tomorrow morning." Hotchner said.

"We should call him." Rossi said. The room was quiet. They knew precisely who Rossi was referring to.

"Ben Pierson is persona non grata. I burned his I.D. myself Dave."

"I know, but I'm sure he has others. Look Hotch, if we do find this immortal if it _is_ an immortal what are we going to do?"

"Arrest him and turn him over to Interpol." Hotchner said.

"Hotch, I agree the guys a criminal but-" Morgan started.

"Morgan it stands to reason that immortals have been incarcerated before."

"Methos said that those always end one of two ways, a faked death or a fatal escape." Prentiss pointed out.

"Point is, people die and the guy goes free to do it again." Rossi said.

"Dave, I can't call him, he got a suspect killed."

"Hotch, with all due respect, that suspect-"

"He wasn't even human." Morgan interrupted.

"Is that where we draw the line?" Hotchner asked. No one met his eyes except Rossi.

"Do we only arrest humans? When do we decide to execute without a trial? Is it okay because they're different? Or because we let Methos do the killing?" Hotchner snapped.

"We have rules, laws, we will obey them because we've sworn to do so." His voice was cold.

**_Can't promise a ridic rapid update like the previous as I'm in skewl again and yeahhh but it'll probably be pretty quick :D_**


	2. Chapter 2

"This debate may be irrelevant, we don't have jurisdiction outside of the U.S." Morgan said.

"Well, that's the thing campers, Interpol projects that this guy is heading here." Garcia sighed. All eyes ticked to her.

"I-we've analyzed his patterns and he's due to hit the U.S."

"How certain are you?" Hotchner asked.

"Say 80% or more. Look a team has been tracking him for the last six months. They're burnt out; Interpol isn't used to tracking a mobile serial killer. They focus on terrorists, drug dealing, human trafficking and the occasional war criminal. We're the best shot to get this guy and y'know we don't _know_ that he's immortal." Garcia pointed out, she blushed slightly and Morgan smirked at her.

"Garcia is correct, for now we treat this like any other unsub. I want a preliminary profile by the end of the day and everyone in here at six sharp for the rest of the materials. If he is coming here to hunt we need to know where, when and why."

* * *

Prentiss opened the door for Hotchner and waited. He entered his apartment and set his briefcase down while keying in his security code.

"Foyet is dead Emily you don't have to keep doing this." Hotchner said evenly.

Prentiss smiled wryly.

"Yeah, I know I just… I dunno I guess I felt better doing it."

"Well, I thank you but –"

"Yeah, I got it Hotch, you can fly solo for now." Emily smiled and left.

* * *

She stopped at a neighborhood bar for a nightcap before heading to her empty apartment. She ordered a whiskey neat. The bar had a decent crowd. Most were civil servants like her. She was relieved to avoid being picked up and oddly disappointed as well. She didn't have time for a relationship and since her experience as a teenager with an unwanted pregnancy she'd had her own issues with sex. Her inner nerd came out to play on dates, eventually. She thought about the conversation she'd had with Morgan about a date she'd screwed up with her nerdiness, discovering that Morgan was also a Kurt Vonnegut fan had made it worth it though.

"Seat taken?" A warm vaguely British voice asked.

Prentiss looked up at the source and froze. It was Methos.

He looked better than he had the last few times they'd met. There was color in his cheeks, although that could've been from liquor, his eyes were bright, he looked rested and the pervasive gauntness was gone. He was standing straight in a tailored silk suit, neatly trimmed hair and manicured nails. He smiled and Prentiss shifted enough that the weight of her gun tugged at her hip, reminding her it was there.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She hissed.

"Relax Prentiss, I'm here on business, didn't know you'd be here."

"Then why approach me?" She snapped.

"Because I can't leave yet and I didn't want you seeing me and creating a scene." He said coolly through a warm smile.

Prentiss considered that. It made sense, barely.

"What business could you possibly have in D.C.?"

"Well I don't, but Benjamin Adamson does."

"Benjamin Adamson? You seriously need to update your I.D. catalog."

"You try balancing a bunch of identities."

"I'll have to tell Hotchner you're here."

"I know. Look, Emily, I really am sorry about how things ended in Maine. I just, I didn't think there was really any choice."

"Getting a suspect gunned down by a bunch of frightened police officers is generally not a good course of action Ben." She grunted.

Methos smirked at her.

"Right, well it's done. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure I just need to make one phone call." She said pulling out her cell phone.

"Tell Aaron I said hi." Methos smirked and ordered another Scotch for Prentiss and a vodka martini for himself.

"Hotch, he's here."

"Who?"

"Our long lived friend, I'm at a bar near my apartment, he just walked up to me."

"Does he know we may be investigating another rogue immortal?"

"I don't think so, he claims to be here on business, his new name is Benjamin Adamson, he knows I'm calling you."

"Keep him engaged, find out what you can about his new identity, I'll get Garcia to check it out."

"Okay." She hung up.

"Your drink madame, lemme guess Garcia's going to vette me?"

Prentiss smiled.

"Fair enough, hopefully I did a better job with this one. " He smiled at her.

"So what is Mr. Adamson doing here?" Emily asked.

"Why Agent Prentiss, I am so glad you asked." He grinned and launched into a spiel about international trading, a conference, and picky clients and so on. Prentiss let him chatter until her cell phone rang a half hour in.

"Prentiss."

"The I.D. checks out, Garcia says it's the best fake she's ever seen. Disengage politely when you can and let me know if anything goes wrong. Call me in an hour."

"Okay."

Her mouth was dry suddenly. Garcia was the best hacker she'd ever encountered, so good she'd landed on a list with less than a half dozen other names, she'd been handpicked and recruited for her job. And only Garcia had been able to bring down Methos' identities. If she said his new one was the best fake she'd seen then Methos had spent some time brushing up on his skills, which meant he was at least as sharp as Garcia, probably genius smart, a dangerous genius.

"Where'd you go?"

"After Maine?" He asked sipping his drink. She nodded.

"South, then East, eventually West, and now, I'm here."

"Very informative." She laughed.

"Well y'know I get around."

"Do you?"

She was annoyed with herself for heeding his charm and flirting when she really should've been shutting him down and heading to her apartment. She had an early morning.

"Well there's only so much –"

"This has been…bizarre, but I have an early morning so good luck with your clients." She said finishing her drink.

"Allow me to walk you to your car?"

"Thanks but I carry a gun."

"Right. Take care Emily." He said gently.

She paused for a moment, caught off guard by his gentle tone. He seemed to genuinely wish her well, not that he shouldn't. A small frown pressed her lips and then she nodded and walked away.

Methos watched her go. His expression almost sad, speculative. Another life, another time, he thought, things might've happened between them. He thought of Alexa and a pang of stale grief shot through him.

"The heart wants what the heart wants." He sighed and finished his drink.

* * *

"I'm fine Hotchner, no he was…nice, it was kind of strange."

"I can have a detail sent out-"

"Really, I'm fine. He was pleasant, flirting."

"I've contacted the rest of the team, Garcia has flagged his identity so she can track him."

"Good, I'll see you in the morning then."

"Get some rest."

The team shuffled into the office around 0530. Prentiss was the last to arrive. She met a half dozen pairs of curious eyes and waved them off while she got a large cup of very sugary coffee.

"Hotch said he contacted you?" Morgan asked buttonholing her at the break area.

"Yeah he did, in a bar near my place." Prentiss sighed.

"Did he threaten you?" Morgan demanded. Reid, Rossi, J.J. and Garcia were looming behind Morgan.

"I'm fine guys, I'll tell you all about it once Hotch is here."

"Oh he's already here, he's in the conference room." J.J. laughed.

"Fine, let's get in there." Prentiss sighed and picked up her coffee.

* * *

Methos ate his lunch quietly. He had half an hour before meeting yet another potential investee. He was masquerading as the public face of a group of secretive venture capitalists. In reality there was only one member of his group, himself but he found it more amusing to pretend. He was thinking of Emily Prentiss and Maine.

_The rain had turned into a furious torrent. He lay staring at the sky as the moon was devoured by fat clouds and the 'walker went down in a hail of gunfire. Then it was black.  
_

"Would you like any coffee or desert sir?" His server – a college aged kid with a modern haircut and a privileged sneer asked saccharinely.

"No, thank you, just the check." Methos replied.

_Hotch's eyes, all cold professionalism as he stared at Methos across a bare steel exam table.  
_

"Your check sir, is there anything else you might need?"

"Yes, I'd like a cab." Methos said, smiling at the micro flash of annoyance on the child's face.

"Very good sir, I'll order one immediately, do you have a preferred service?"

"Someone quick and circumspect."

"Right away sir."


	3. Chapter 3

Methos stared at the façade of the bank. It was one of those banks that felt it was so important it had to make its importance clear to the average viewer; it did this with lots of Doric columns and important looking frescoes. Methos thought it was tasteless.

He entered and waited politely for a teller to approach him. He whispered his request and waited calmly while the teller scurried off to comply. Seconds later he had an answer, of sorts.

"Ahh Mr. Adamson, I understand you would like to close your account with us?"

It was an odious middle manager.

"Yes." Methos said succinctly.

"May I speak with you in my office Mr. Adamson?"

The man was above average height. He wore an extremely expensive suit, he seemed calm enough but was sweating ever so slightly. Methos wondered what he was so nervous about. Granted Methos' holdings in the bank were not inconsiderable but still.

"Very well." Methos agreed, more out of curiosity than anything else.

The office was opulent and understated, someone that knew what they were looking at would realize the opulence, to an uneducated glance it merely appeared stoic. The desk was made from rare Brazilian walnut, the floor was tiled in expensive Italian marble, the pens and such on the desk appeared to be platinum.

"Why are you wasting my time Mr. ?" The man hadn't introduced himself. He was handsome enough in a ken doll production model kind of way.

"Lyle, Mr. Lyle. I apologize for the inconvenience Mr. Adamson. It seems there have been some irregularities in your account. We're working them out but it will be at least 72 hours before we can release the full funds you've requested.

The man's eyes were blue green in the dim light. They sparkled with a false joviality. Methos' felt the hairs on his neck prickle.

"That is unacceptable Mr. Lyle." Methos said evenly. He tensed slightly ready to take action, something was wrong, Lyle was trying to hide something.

"I understand your concern Mr. Adamson, I can arrange to have a four hundred thousand dollar cashier's check released to you immediately."

That was less than half the amount in the account.

"We seem to be having a communications problem Mr. Lyle." Methos said stepping closer to the ken doll of a man. Methos took a deep breath. He smelled soap, an extremely expensive cologne, an overlay of sweat and deodorant, and something ranker, but more subtle, rot. Methos' gaze flicked down to Lyle's left hand, he wore a glove, but judging by the faintest indentation in the glove he was wearing a prosthetic where his thumb ought to be.

Methos lashed out, gripping Lyle's hand he twisted the banker's wrist, dropping him to one knee and slammed his hand on the Walnut desk. Lyle let out a surprisingly high pitched squeal.

"I am not a man to be trifled with Mr. Lyle, I suggest you do whatever is necessary to release my funds to me, immediately." Methos said calmly and released the paper pusher.

Lyle immediately sprang to his feet and reached for a hand gun in his jacket. Methos had felt the gun when he'd closed with Lyle but had thought the man had enough sense to keep it holstered, Methos slipped close to him, rabbit punched him in the ribcage hard enough to crack two of his lower free floating ribs. Lyle hissed and clutched at his side. Methos neatly disarmed him.

"Hmm this is an expensive weapon Mr. Lyle. Here's a strategic tip for you, a hand gun, like a rifle is a distance weapon. If your quarry is close enough to touch you, then they are close enough to take your gun away. Now, don't make me draw blood or ruin your, really very beautiful, suit. My funds please." Methos said mildly while pocketing Lyle's gun.

"You're not what I was expecting Mr. Adamson." Lyle gasped still clutching his ribs.

"I almost never am Mr. Lyle." Methos smiled.

Lyle straightened slowly and took a tentative breath. He keyed the intercom on his desk.

"Margaret, please see that Mr. Adamson's funds are ready immediately, he'll be needing them."

"Yes sir." A feminine voice piped back.

"Very wise Mr. Lyle." Methos said and removed the clip from Lyle's weapon, discharged a chambered round flipped the safety on and put the gun on the desk.

"I don't wish to take your property Mr. Lyle. Although I would like to know why you felt the need to steal from me in the first place."

Lyle was carefully trying to sit down; his breathing was harsh and shallow.

"You've got your funds Mr. Adamson-"

Methos gestured for Lyle to be quiet.

"I'll put it this way Mr. Lyle. Don't do it again, I'm not especially big on forgiveness." Methos growled. He turned on one heel and left the office, a young woman was waiting by the door with an envelope, inside was a cashier's check for the full amount of his holdings. Methos smiled at it and wished the woman well.

* * *

_Five Weeks Later_

"He's a very dangerous man Sis, not someone you want to tangle with."

"Because he broke your ribs? You were trying to steal from him, what did you expect? A hug?" Miss Parker sneered. She was a hard woman, dressed to the nines in a designer suit and shoes that would cost more than the average persons' monthly rent. Her makeup was severe and jarring. She sneered icily at her twin.

"I had to stall him, the Centre had borrowed heavily from that branch thanks to one of Jarod's stunts."

"Yes well, now that wookums is all better we're back where we started. No Jarod. "

"That's not the point –"

"Yes. It. Is." Miss. Parker hissed.

Lyle scowled.

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Start over. Jarod's been on the run for over two years now. He must be getting tired. He's lost his brother and he killed Damon. We need to increase the pressure, keep him running, he'll screw up and we'll be waiting."

"That's your big solution? Try harder?"

"How's the ribs?" Parker sneered and jabbed Lyle in the chest, doubling him over.

* * *

"They don't want us to pursue?" Morgan demanded.

"He hasn't shown up in the U.S. and our profile indicates he's more erratic than they thought. Until there's clear evidence that the unsub has committed a crime on our soil and may still be within our borders we can't move." Hotchner said tiredly.

"Look at the bright side, now we don't have to deal with Ben." J.J. pointed out.

"For now." Reid said.

"Well, I've put feelers out and Benjamin Adamson is busy with a merger in London." Garcia said and shrugged.

"So, that's it?" Prentiss said.

"For now." Hotchner sighed.

* * *

Methos glared at Kristof. The big man had been leaving a snail trail across Europe of dead immortals and maimed mortals. He wasn't quite rogue but close enough. As the B.A.U. would've said he was spiraling, de-evolving.

"Adam! Let's not fight! Let's get drunk!" Kristof snorted. The big man was already drunk, sadly that didn't make him any less combat effective.

Methos dodged an overhand slash and sliced Kirstof's right calf muscle in half. He howled in annoyed pain and backed off.

"I didn't want to do this Kristof, remember that."

"Ohhh you think you're going to win and your conscience will prick at you?" Krisof laughed and made a decent move to take off Methos' head. The older immortal dodged it and stabbed Kristof in the upper thigh of his good leg.

"No, I just want you to understand that everything has a price, today you get to pay for your sloppy past." Methos growled pulling his blade free. Kristof howled in pain and staggered backwards.

"I kill you!" Kristof roared, his breath stank of cheap liquor and sausage. Methos neatly slipped under his guard and stabbed him through the lower jaw and into his skull. Kristof made gurgling noises until Methos pulled the blade free and sliced off his head.

The quickening was savage but short lived.

* * *

Emily waved at Reid as she entered the office, he didn't notice her, he was sitting on the edge of Morgan's desk babbling on about something. Morgan shot her a 'help me' look and Emily cheerfully ignored it. She had a stack of mail on her desk, usual for a Monday.

She pursed her lips and went through it. Only two seemed interesting. One was a reply from a detective she'd sent a profile too and the other was handwritten and addressed simply to 'Emily'.

The reply was a grateful acknowledgment and thank you, evidently the profile had allowed the haggard detective to narrow his suspects to a handful and progress was being made. She smiled and set the letter aside.

_Dear Emily, the European problem has been resolved. Best wishes to you and the team._

_Regards_

_Adam  
_

She almost choked reading it. The bustle and soft drone of the office around her narrowed and faded away. Only the letter in her hand mattered.

"Hey Prentiss, what's up?" Morgan asked. Evidently he had attempted to escape Reid's in-depth discussion of the physics of a Stargate by leaving his desk, Reid had simply followed.

"It's…it's a letter, from Methos." She murmured still staring at it.

"What?" Morgan said and moved to read the letter over her shoulder.

"How did he know about the Interpol case?" Reid asked.

"Wait, back with the Texas thing, he said he had his own resources right?"

"Yeah." Morgan murmurred.

"That makes sense, surely he has some kind of way to keep track of potential enemies." Reid pointed out.

"So maybe this guy showed up on his radar as well as ours." Morgan concluded.

"Why did he address it to me?" Emily asked.

"Uh, maybe, he likes you?" Reid suggested.

Prentiss stared at him for a moment.

"You had more contact with him than most of us. In Texas he spent more time with you and he sought you out in the bar near your home." Reid said.

"I'm going to take this to Hotch." Emily said absently. She moved robotically toward Hotchner's office. Morgan frowned after her.

_**Oh shit, did I just throw some of The Pretender up in that bitch? Ha ha yes, yes I did. What can I say? I'm feeling nostalgic…**_


	4. Chapter 4

Miss Parker glared at the computer screen in front of her. A smiling picture of a man in his early thirties was displaying. The man looked strong, healthy, dark was medium length hair, stubble on his chin - just enough to be manly not unkempt, he was well groomed and there was an unadulterated joy in his smile that Miss Parker found unbearable. Largely because that joy existed because he had once again slipped through her grasp and taken the time to sneer at her while he did it.

She snapped a pencil and stood up. She reflexively smoothed her jacket and skirt and picked up the phone.

"Broots, what have the sweeper teams found?"

"Uh, well, nothing Miss Parker yet that is, they're uh still looking." Broots stammered.

"I want a status report in one half hour Broots, and there'd better be something useful in it." She snarled and hung up.

They'd doubled the number of teams actively scouring for Jarod. Her plan was to drive him into making an error. If her teams came close to him, interrupted one of his schemes then he would sacrifice himself to save the people he was helping or if not he would eventually make an error. Eventually being the key. For two years she'd chased him and her temper was fraying.

* * *

Methos yawned and sipped his coffee. He wasn't especially fond of D.C. the weather was oppressive the crime rate unseemly, and the ratio of politicians to normal human beings disturbingly skewed. Still, his new persona had business to conduct. He promised himself his next identity would be a hermit of some sort, one that would never ever have to set foot in a swelteringly hot city.

He was waiting for an eager young entrepreneur. The man's product wasn't especially revolutionary but it could do well on the QVC/late night infomercial market. He checked his watch and sighed then drank more coffee. He studied the crowds swirling around the café. He spotted a tall lean woman in casual slacks and a dark blue top, he caught the barest glimpse of her before she vanished in to the crowd.

Prentiss? Had it been her? He shook his head. Even if it was the intriguing agent he couldn't bother her again. Sending the card had been more than enough. Still…

* * *

Prentiss had spotted him as she walked to meet J.J. for brunch. She thought she was seeing things but had doubled back through the crowd to check. It was him alright, calmly eating a late breakfast and apparently waiting for someone.

She hurried to meet up with J.J. the last thing she needed was Methos.

J.J. greeted her happily. Since the blonde's unwilling transfer to the Pentagon the close knit women of the B.A.U. hadn't been able to meet up as often as they had in the past.

"Where's Garcia?" J.J. asked.

Prentiss started to mention Methos when her phone rang. It was Garcia.

"Hey I know I'm totally late but I got a call this morning, I set up some anchors on Ben's I.D. to alert me when he was coming into town or up to mischief, and it went off like twenty minutes ago –"

"I know Garcia, I spotted him. He's eating breakfast about four blocks from here."

"Oh eep, what do you want me to do?"

"Hurry down here so we can have a decent meal before shopping." Prentiss laughed.

"Really?" Garcia asked surprised.

"Yes, really, he knows we're watching him. He'll be on his best behavior, and if not I'll just shoot him." Prentiss said. She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

"Right –o consider me on my way..ness." Garcia said and hung up.

"Trouble at the office?" J.J. asked with an arched brow.

"Sort of, Ben is back in town."

"Wait, Texas Ben?" J.J. asked leaning forward. Prentiss immediately conjured an image of the lanky immortal in a ten gallon hat. She stifled the urge to laugh.

"Yeah, he's at a café a few blocks from here."

"You think its coincidence?"

"Garcia's been watching his new I.D. he's in town for a few days about once a quarter. Seems to be minding his own business."

"Still, weird."

"I know right? I feel like he's pseudo stalking me by being really pleasant and minding his own business."

J.J. laughed.

"How's Henry?" Prentiss asked not so subtly changing the topic.

"He's great he's with Will today, they're having a boy's day."

"How does that go? Lots of football?"

"Ehhh last time I came home and Will was asleep covered in Henry's clothes and baby food and Henry was sleeping on his chest."

"Aww tell me you got a picture!" Prentiss laughed.

"Oh no now you've done it, you realize you will now be forced to endure at least 45 minutes of baby pictures?"

"Bring it on." Emily laughed.

* * *

Jarod hadn't been to D.C. very often largely due to its relative location to Delaware. The size of the Eastern states compared to the Western states amused him. He stared up at the Washington monument and enjoyed the spectacle.

He'd insured a day or so to relax in by routing Sydney and Miss Parker to a false trail he'd left leading to an obscure Island off the coast of Washington that had drastically limited ferry service and no airport. It was possible to chopper in but only during near perfect weather conditions. The only thing of note on the island was an animal research station focused on migratory birds. He grinned and started walking.

* * *

Methos' appointment never showed so he enjoyed his meal and decided to go for a walk. His flight wasn't until that afternoon.

He found himself heading toward the mall.

* * *

"Ah I'm not too late am I?" Garcia asked as she took a seat.

J.J. still had baby pictures out.

"Ohhh lemme see!" Garcia crooned.

"Hey Garcia, Emily said you had something to keep you at the office?"

"Oh Emily's really hot but really really old stalker is back in town. He's so big!" She said.

"Who?" Emily asked.

"Henry, Ben's tall but he's lean, like a whippet, a really hot whippet."

"Watch it Kevin might get upset." J.J. teased.

"How much coffee did you have this morning?" Emily asked Garcia.

* * *

Methos spotted the man at the Lincoln memorial. He was grinning up at the stoic visage of the great president.

"He's so big!" The man said as Methos drew abreast of him. He was a big man, six foot three if he was an inch. Broad through the chest and shoulders, judging by the way his clothes hung and his stance he was fit too.

"It's a pretty literal monument." Methos admitted.

* * *

"He's so sweet, you should see him with Henry." J.J. sighed.

"So when are you guys gonna make it official?" Prentiss asked.

"Seriously Jayj you two have been dancing around it for ages now." Garcia chimed in.

"I'll let you know." J.J. laughed.

"Oh hey you guys I have to get a pack of those cheesy tourist postcards!" Garcia said.

"Oh jeez, _why_?" Emily laughed.

"It's this thing for Kevin, his family are all out West and he's never had any of them come out here so I thought I'd introduce myself with some Garcia style postcard hugs."

"That is so you." J.J. grinned.

The women were sipping lattes and window shopping.

"So where you want to get your amazing post cards?" Emily asked.

"Where else? The mall, they've got loads of cheesy souvenir stores." Garcia said and hailed a cab.

* * *

**_A/N ha ha ha okay, if you can't see where this is going... ;) Also, yes, Highlander ended the year the pretender started and Criminal Minds started like four years after the last Pretender TV movie. What can I say? This is my 'verse and I am its god, therefore time bends to my will!  
_**


	5. Chapter 5

"First time in D.C.?" Methos asked.

"Oh yes." The man grinned.

"Name's Benjamin." Methos said and extended his hand.

"Jarod." The man said and shook Methos' hand, his grip was strong, dry, sure.

"There are many wonderful and interesting monuments here." Jarod said with a grin.

"Yeah there are." Methos admitted. He glanced over the mall with a fresh eye.

"What brings you to D.C. Benjamin?"

"Just Ben. Business, but my meeting sort of never happened so I thought I'd enjoy myself before I have to fly out." Methos said.

"I'm kind of on a short vacation too. It's nice last time I was here I didn't have much time to sightsee." Jarod grinned.

"Can I buy you a coffee?" Methos asked. He was intrigued by the big man and found his cheerfully sincere attitude pleasant.

"Sure I would like that." Jarod said.

* * *

Garcia had an armful of post cards and tacky pewter trinkets.

"Garcia, if you send all that crap they won't have anything to buy for themselves when they visit!" Prentiss laughed.

"Mock all you want Miss Prentiss, you're going to be awfully jealous of how truly amazing these turn out."

"You know she's right." J.J. chimed in.

"Yeah but imagine the postage." Prentiss snorted.

* * *

"So you travel a lot for your work?" Jarod asked.

"I do. I've always traveled. I never thought about it before, it's just something I do. How about you?"

"I'm always on the move. I…" He trailed off and looked sad for a moment.

"I have to keep ahead of things." He finished

"What do you do?" Methos asked.

"Nothing right now, I used to be a Park Ranger, and I was a rodeo clown before that."

"That's an interesting work history." Methos laughed.

"You have no idea." Jarod agreed and slurped his coffee.

* * *

"Miss Parker! Miss Parker!" Broots gasped racing through the Centre to Miss Parker's office.

"What?" She hissed from her desk.

"One of our teams sighted Jarod!"

"What? On that godforsaken little island?"

"No, in Washington D.C.!"

Parker immediately picked up her phone.

"Get me the jet and two teams, immediately, prep for a flight to D.C." she hung up.

"Where's Sydney?"

"He's going to meet us at the hangar."

"Lyle and Brigitte?"

"I dunno, I mean I tried to find them but they're not in the Centre."

"Let's go. It's time this farce was ended." Parker snapped.

* * *

"So why did you choose D.C. for your vacation?" Methos asked.

" I thought why not, it is our capitol city. Well, I guess not yours. Where are you from?"

"Originally? Egypt, I think." Methos answered completely truthfully.

"Interesting, your accent is pretty unique."

"Well I've spent most my life traveling." Methos said with a smile. Methos sipped his drink and glanced at the Mall over the lid of the coffee.

A duet of men had appeared they looked like security types medium quality suits, gym-rat builds and practical shoes. Jarod tensed as they came into view. He got to his feet. He and Methos had been sitting on the steps leading up to the Lincoln monument.

"Jarod?"

"I've gotta go." He said and started running flat out. Methos stared in surprise for a few seconds and then spotted the security men closing in on Jarod in spite of his speedy flight. Methos started running after his new acquaintance. He wasn't sure what the suited goons wanted with Jarod but he knew in his core that Jarod was incapable of any action that would justify professional goons.

"Jarod!" Methos shouted. The big man glanced back at Methos and then kept running. The two agents also slowed to take in Methos. Methos raced toward them. One drew a weapon and snarled at Methos.

Methos glared at the goon and put on an extra burst of speed.

"Benjamin, this isn't your fight." Jarod gasped as Methos drew close.

"Bullshit Jarod, I know people, and I know you." Methos snapped back. One of the goons drew a bead on the fleeing men; Methos grabbed Jarod's shoulder and shoved him in front of Methos.

A shot rang out, nicking a statue.

"Run!" Methos shouted and turned toward the goons. Someone over Methos' shoulder shouted, a female voice. The two goons holstered their weapons and backed off from Jarod. Methos looked over his shoulder. The tall man was gasping for breath. Agent Prentiss, J.J. and the analyst…Garcia were standing around Jarod. Methos blinked.

"Are you alright sir?" J.J. was asking Jarod.

"Yes thank you." Jarod said straightening.

"Do you know why those men were chasing you?" Prentiss asked. Garcia was on the phone with a 911 operator.

"It's my fault, they tried to mug me and I resisted, Jarod was with me at the time." Methos interrupted. Prentiss narrowed her gaze at him.

"Local P.D. are on the way." Garcia said.

"No need, I don't think Jarod wants to make a statement and neither of us got a good look at the muggers." Methos said cheerfully.

"Muggers, in suits, in daylight, on the mall?" Prentiss scoffed.

"Thank you but I'm afraid he's right." Jarod said chagrined.

"Ben, really? You seriously expect us to buy that?" Prentiss demanded.

"Agent Prentiss, I didn't know you were here, I'm extremely grateful you are but neither of us wants to file a report or make a statement." Methos said firmly..

"You're on thin ice Ben, keep your nose clean." Prentiss growled.

"You know these women?" Jarod asked.

"We've worked together." Methos admitted.

"Tell me why I shouldn't cuff you just because." Prentiss asked. She wasn't going to, but she did want to know why Methos and the stranger had been pursued by two heavy duty security types.

"Because we haven't done anything wrong, look if you really want to do some public service go after those jerks." Methos sighed.

"I'm sorry ladies, we need to go, we're...in high demand, thank you." Jarod said genuinely. Methos smiled at him. He wondered why Jarod was so eager to get away, was he just being cooperative and playing along to please Methos? Or did he have another reason for wishing to avoid official involvement?

It took awhile but eventually Methos and Jarod managed to leave without filing a report. Garcia told the 911 operator that the situation had resolved. Methos was annoyed by the call, there would be a record of the call if nothing else.

* * *

"You saved my life." Jarod said once they were out of earshot.

"Maybe." Methos said and shrugged.

"You know those agents? I thought you were a businessman." Jarod said suspiciously. It wasn't an angry suspicion more an amused curiosity.

"You think I'm a crooked banker or something right? Relax Jarod, they're from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, I've done some consulting with them. We didn't end things on the best of terms. That's all." Methos sighed.

"Well thank you Benjamin but as you can see my vacation is over." Jarod said offering his hand.

"Hold on, look, you're a decent guy, I mean that in the most literal sense, so why are a bunch of goons out to get you?"

"It's a long story." Jarod sighed.

"We should get off the street." Methos said and hailed a cab.

* * *

Methos had them change cabs four times, the trip took four hours in D.C. traffic. They ended up at a decent hotel off the main thoroughfares.

"You've done this before." Jarod said, it wasn't a question.

"You aren't the only one with a long story." Methos grunted and unlocked their suite.

"Benjamin –"

"Call me Ben, Jarod." Methos interrupted. He swept the room before gesturing for Jarod to enter. Jarod studied Methos. The long fingered hands, careful strength, the neat appearance and expensive clothes, his sharp changeling eyes that missed nothing.

"Who are you?" He asked Methos.

"Right now, I'm a businessman."

"That's not much of an answer." Jarod grunted.

"Look, I got us here, safe, so why don't you tell me why you're being hunted and we'll go from there?"

Jarod studied Methos again.

"You're an extraordinary man." He said finally. Methos just stared back at Jarod.

"When I was young I was taken from my family. I was raised in a place called The Centre, a corporation. I was forced to conduct simulations, the center used the data from these simulations to hurt people. A little over two years ago I escaped, they've been hunting me ever since."

"You're a Pretender?" Methos asked.

"You know about Pretenders?" Jarod asked intently.

"Only in passing, I'd heard rumors." Methos muttered seemingly distracted.

"I'm just trying to find my family, get away from the Centre, but they want me back, they killed my brother and they haven't stopped hunting me."

"Yeah and they won't, I know their kind." Methos sighed.

"What about you?" Jarod asked.

"What about me?" Methos shot back. Jarod opened his mouth to question further.

"Look Jarod, you're a good man, you deserve help and I don't think the Centre should get you back, clearly you're better than that. But...that doesn't mean that I owe you my autobiography."

"You implied you would tell me who you were if I told you who I am. Why should I trust you?" Jarod asked folding his arms.

"Why not? We just met five hours ago, shared a coffee and got shot at."

"You're on poor terms with the F.B.I. –"

"I have a past. Jarod I… look I'll make a deal with you. Let me help you and I'll tell you about me okay?"

"You're bargaining with me so I'll let you help me?" Jarod asked.

Methos thought about it and smiled. The smile changed his face, the stern mask, the brusque efficiency fell away and his face lit up. Jarod smiled at that face.

"Yes I suppose I am."

"Deal." Jarod said sticking his hand out.

**_Lulz, oh Methos, you sneaky SOB. Now, why the hell would the most self sufficient man on the planet give a hoot about his polar opposite? Well, maybe not 'polar' but still. Hmmm_**


	6. Chapter 6

"They _lost_ him?" Parker snarled.

They were standing in the Centre office in D.C.

"Uh yes Miss Parker, they were worried that he was running for it so they engaged, they uh fired one shot and then were interrupted..by a federal agent." Broots said.

"So they drove him into the arms of the F.B.I.?" Parker snapped.

"Uh no apparently Jarod and the guy he was with talked their way out of it and took off in a cab."

"Relax Miss Parker, it could be worse." Sydney said with an amused smile.

"How? Sydney? How, exactly, could it be worse?" Parker hissed.

"Well, he's not in federal custody, even the Centre would find that a hindrance." Syndey pointed out.

"Uh, there's more Miss Parker, they don't think he left the city."

"Why?" Parker demanded.

"Well he hasn't finished any of his normal routines, there's no report of a stranger involved in any complex altruistic schemes and he hasn't left any obvious calling cards."

"He was nearly caught, even Jarod won't stop to thumb his nose if we're hot on his heels." Parker scoffed.

"Yeah but he hasn't been sighted at any major egress points either and the guy he was with, he didn't make his flight this afternoon."

"What do we know about him?" Sydney asked.

"Uh, Benjamin Adamson, he's…English apparently uhm he's a venture capitalist, heads a group of investors, he comes into town about once a quarter to meet with potential investees. He was booked on a flight to London that left an hour ago. He didn't call to cancel and didn't make the flight."

"I want eyes and ears on all outbound European flights. If Jarod hasn't left the city yet let's make sure it stays that way." Parker growled. Broots nodded and hurried off.

"This could be our best chance to catch Jarod." Sydney said quietly.

"I know that Syd. Think you can do it?" She replied in the same tone. Sydney stared at her.

"Think you can?" He countered.

Both had faced uncomfortable realizations since Jarod had escaped. Certain truths and realities that made the once clear cut decision to re-capture the Pretender a lot more gray than they were comfortable with.

* * *

"What the hell was that?" Prentiss demanded rhetorically.

"He looks better, tanner." J.J. said. Emily laughed.

"Yeah he does, healthier." She agreed.

"Local P.D. aren't even going to send a squad car out. They logged our call but if neither of them are willing to press charges or file a report …" Garcia trailed off and shrugged.

"I'll let Hotch know what happened." Prentiss sighed.

"Yeah okay but what _did_ just happen?" Garcia asked.

"Uh, well…" Prentiss said and frowned.

"Yeahh have fun with that phone call Prentiss, J.J. and I will be over here." Garcia said pointing at a nearby bench.

"Ahhh crap." Prentiss sighed.

* * *

"So all you know is that your father was an air force major at Clearwater Air Station, your mother's name was Margaret and you were either adopted or conceived at nuGenesis?" Methos asked.

"Basically."

"Okay, I gotta make a couple calls." Methos grunted.

"Joe, I'm going to send you an email with some names, I need you to find out whatever you can about them. It's important. No it doesn't have anything to do with us. Right. Thanks Joe, I owe you." Methos hung up and glanced at Jarod. The Pretender looked exhausted.

"Hey catch some Zs this is going to take a while. We'll have to get out of here soon we can't stay the night here." Methos suggested.

"Yeah I guess." Jarod said. He slowly stretched out on the bed.

"Garcia don't freak out." Methos said after dialing the analyst. He held the phone away from his ear as a stream of high pitched outrage streamed forth.

"Look I need a favor, the man I was with is trying to find his family. No, no this doesn't have anything to do with me, no I…okay fine fair enough but… Garcia listen, please, he's an orphan okay? He was stolen from his parents, he just wants to find them." Long pause. "I'll send you a file, thank you."

"Who was that?" Jarod asked.

"Joe is an old friend, I owe him my life, Garcia is one of the women we met today she's an analyst. She's brilliant with computers, if any information about your parents is on record on a computer connected to the 'net she can find it. Her parents died when she was eighteen, she understands how important finding family is, she'll help."

"Do you have a bag or anything you'll need to take with you?" Methos asked putting his phone away.

"Yeah, I can get to them." Jarod said tiredly. He seemed depressed.

"I thought I'd tricked them. I thought I could have one day. Just one to be a normal person, enjoy myself." He muttered.

"It's hard being on the run all the time. Not knowing when you'll have to run again, never being able to settle down and stop looking over your shoulder." Methos said gently.

Jarod sat up and looked at Methos.

"You're running too?"

"All my kind are."

"Your kind?"

"I…I'm not a normal person Jarod."

"I don't really know what normal is." Jarod said with a smile. Methos laughed.

"No, I mean, I'm _really_ not, I'm not a Pretender like you but…let me show you."

Methos fished out his boot knifed and sliced his palm open. Jarod made a concerned noise and moved forward to help.

"It's okay." Methos said through gritted teeth. He might heal almost immediately but it still hurt like hell.

A blue-white light crawled across his palm leaving a bloodstain and whole flesh in its path. Jarod gripped Methos' hand in both of his and ran a thumb through the blood.

"I'm immortal Jarod, I'm always on the run. My kind hunts each other for our power, the only reason I've lived to this age is because I usually run rather than fight." Methos said gently.

"How old are you?" Jarod asked quietly still holding Methos' hand. Jarod could smell the blood, feel the heat of Methos' skin, he didn't feel any wires or leads or anything else that might have created the lightning effect. He believed him.

"Older than the Roman Empire. Running is what I do Jarod, I can help you stay out of the Centre."

"I do more than run Ben, I help people-"

Methos' phone rang.

"Garcia? That was fast."

"Yeah here's the thing kiddo Hotch is unhappy with you calling, no I didn't rat you out there's a tag on your I.D., anyway I got what I could. Your friend gets around, original white knight incarnate I'm sending you what I could dig up, don't call again I like my job."

"Thank-" She'd hung up on him.

His phone beeped indicating a new email. It was from Joe, as he opened it Garcia's email arrived, Joe's was much shorter it simply read, RUN.

"Come on we have to get out of here." Methos snapped he wiped his bloody palm on the bed spread and opened the window. A fire escape was outside it, the hotel was older which was why Methos had chosen it. More modern buildings had indoor escape stairwells.

"Come on, _now_." Methos growled. Jarod slipped out first and Methos took the rear. As Methos stepped through the window and onto the fire escape the room's door shattered inward. The same goons from the mall appeared. Methos crouched down and hurriedly followed Jarod down.

As they reached the end of the escape and jumped down to the ground the goons followed and a sedan pulled into the alley.

"Shit." Methos hissed the opposite end of the alley was a dead end. Methos charged the sedan hoping to tangle whoever was inside and slow them down.

"Run!" He snapped at Jarod.

Jarod was already running toward the sedan. Methos reached it first, he slammed shoulder first into the opening passenger's front door, Jarod slid over the hood and kept running. Methos scrambled after him. The goons on the fire escape shouted and opened fire. Methos heard the car door open and a woman shout at the men. More doors opened and he could hear more people running. Jarod was fast, he was tall and long legged, Methos was pleased he wasn't flagging or tiring but they couldn't run forever.

More shouts, an accented voice calling Jarod's name. Methos looked over his shoulder. The original two goons had been joined by another pair and a woman dressed in an expensive suit and waving a gun. Her shoes were highly impractical so she was falling behind. She paused and Methos realized with horror she was aiming her weapon at himself or Jarod. He tried to angle his sprint so he was between Jarod and the bullet but the Pretender was taller than him and fast, Methos simply couldn't catch up to Jarod in time to completely shield him from the woman's line of fire.

* * *

Miss Parker had Jarod in her sights, she could drop him, permanently. She could almost hear her mother whispering in her ear, telling her to let him go, but if she did and her brother caught him… she set her jaw and eyed her sightline again. The stranger was moving to block her shot. She squeezed the trigger.

Methos felt the bullet tear through the outside of his upper arm. Hot blood soaked his sleeve, Jarod, running ahead of the immortal stumbled but kept running. Methos hurried to catch up to the bigger man.

"We have to get off the street." Methos growled. Jarod started to slow. Methos caught him and was horrified to see an exit wound on his upper right shoulder, the bullet had hit Methos _and _Jarod.

"Fuck. Come on Jarod come _on_!" Methos could see the Centre operatives still in pursuit. They had to hide.

He got Jarod to his feet and slung the Pretender's arm over his shoulder, half guiding - half dragging the big man he got off the street and into a convenience store. The owner started shouting at them. Methos dragged Jarod through the back and out into another alley. A pickup truck was parked with a tarp pulled over the bed. Methos peered into the bed, it was largely empty except for a crate of cabbages. Methos popped the tailgate down and got Jarod under the tarp. He hurriedly followed and pulled the tailgate closed. He hoped whatever blood trail they'd left wouldn't be enough for the operatives to follow. He shifted under the 18 or so inches of space under the tarp and wriggled up to Jarod.

"Should leave me Ben." Jarod muttered.

"Shut up." Methos said tiredly and tried to get a look at Jarod's wound. It was rough, the bullet must have been slowing down or misshapen from hitting Methos. Methos slipped off his suit coat and tucked it under Jarod's head and then pulled his dress shirt off. He used it as a pressure bandage on the wound.

"Okay, you're stable you'll be okay for a little while, we have to get out of here and find you a doctor."

"Run." Jarod insisted.

"I'm staying with you, shut up about that, I'm not letting them take you back."

Images of Kronos and an ancient city filled his head, the memory of Kronos' hot breath on his cheek as the sadistic immortal taunted him, chained him, dragged him back to the horsemen. He wouldn't condemn Jarod to that.

"If they get both of us…" Jarod muttered.

"Shh stop trying to talk." Methos whispered. He heard a door opening.

"Alright Emil, I'll be back tomorrow with your carrots lemme know if you need anything else, Candace is having a bumper crop of parsnips."

"I'll give you a call."

Methos listened as the truck door opened and closed and mercifully the engine caught. He could hear someone shouting over the noise of the engine. A woman.

* * *

"We are not losing Jarod _again_!" Parker snarled at the two sweeper teams. Her feet were killing her, sprinting in heels was unwise at best.

"There! That truck!" One of the sweepers shouted. She saw the truck he meant, it was orange but a bloody hand print was clearly visible on the tailgate.

"Get the license." She snapped as it turned out of the alley.

Jarod passed out shortly after the truck started moving. Methos risked moving the tarp so he could get some light and take a better look at the Pretender's injury. It was messy but had missed anything really vital. Methos dug around for the bullet and managed to locate it in one piece. He fished it out and pressed the makeshift bandage down hard to staunch the fresh bleeding. Jarod moaned in pain.

Methos' wound had healed long before. The truck drove for nearly an hour before it pulled over and the engine shut off. Methos listened as the driver opened the door and got out, listened to boots scraping on dirt and gravel, the soft tock of a heel on grass. Then the sound of the tailgate opening.

Methos covered Jarod, hoping that the farmer would ask questions before shooting.

"What the hell?" He snapped.

Methos was covered in blood, wearing a tank top and dress pants with dress shoes. Jarod wearing a black T-shirt and leather jacket with black slacks was moaning and muttering and still slowly bleeding.

"Please we need help, my friend is hurt, we don't want to hurt you." Methos said desperately.

"Tom! Get out here!" The man shouted toward a dilapidated white house. A screen door crashed open and a young man in his late teens appeared.

"Go get your mother, this man is injured." The farmer said. Methos felt something loosen in his chest. The farmer looked to be in his late fifties, skin leather-brown withstrong broad hands.

"You hurt son?" He asked Methos.

"No, just my friend." He said.

"Good, get down here and help me get him in the house, he's a big one."

Methos scrambled out of the bed and helped the farmer shift Jarod out, they had to sling him between them, Methos gripped him under the arms while the farmer took his legs, it wasn't the best method and it aggravated Jarod's wound but it was fast. They hurried into the house and laid Jarod on a clean scarred table in the kitchen. The boy returned with an older woman, she was about ten years younger than the farmer.

"We've got an injured man Candace." The farmer said.

"I can see that Sampson. Tom get some water boiling and grab the first aid kit." She said and moved toward Jarod. Methos stood protectively over his friend.

"Hold him down son, I need to take a look at his injury." Candace said crisply. Methos obeyed. She expertly probed the wound and then asked Methos to lift Jarod so she could look at the entry wound.

"Well, it's ugly but if we keep it clean and dry, wrap it well he should be fine." She predicted as the boy returned.

She fished a bottle of peroxide out of the kit.

"Sorry son this is the best we've got, now hold him down he's gonna kick like a mule." She growled. Methos swallowed and nodded. She poured half the bottle into the exit wound and as Jarod sat up gasping in agony she dumped the rest into the entry wound. Jarod hissed and dropped back to the table. He was roughly conscious but didn't seem to be entirely aware of his surroundings.

"Ben you should run." He whispered.

"Shhh you've been hurt Jarod, just rest I'll keep you safe." Methos soothed. Jarod slipped away again as Candace and Methos were bandaging his shoulder.

"Right then, you're Ben?" Candace asked. She was wiping her hands clean. Methos stared at her for a moment.

"Uh yeah name's Ben Adamson."

"I'm Candace, this is my boy Thomas and Sampson is my husband. You wanna tell me why you and your friend were stowin' away in my husband's truck?" She asked. Her tone wasn't unkind.

"We were being chased, some dangerous people are after Jarod, they shot him, we were running for our lives, we were desperate, he couldn't go any further so we hid in your husband's truck. He started to drive and…well we ended up here." Methos ended lamely.

"Right, well you two can stay here till he's on his feet –"

"But Mom he said dangerous people are after –"

"They're our guests Thomas! Don't make me ashamed of you! Now get out there and see what your father needs help with." Candace snapped sternly.

The boy looked angry but obeyed. Methos couldn't blame him.

"We're grateful for your help ma'am. But, if you have a vehicle we can buy from you we can hit the road-"

"Don't be foolish son, that man can't be going anywhere for at least 24 hours, not unless you want him to get an infection or a fever set in." She scoffed. "Now I'm gonna get some of Sampson's old clothes you need to clean up." She muttered.

Sampson was rather rounder than Methos but he couldn't argue with her, his clothes looked like they'd been used to mop a slaughter house floor. He stood in the shower and watched the pink water go pale and finally run clean. The heat felt good, he dressed slowly and returned to the kitchen.

"When Sampson gets in we'll move him to our guest room. It's on the first floor near the bathroom, should be comfortable there." Candace said. She was bustling about the kitchen, apparently preparing dinner while an unconscious gun shot victim took up her kitchen table.

Methos checked Jarod's temperature.

"He seems hot."

"Aye, did what we could but he had plenty of time to get an infection in there." She tutted. Methos frowned.

"May I take a look at your spices?" He asked.

"Sure, suit yourself." She said and watched as he sorted out honey and several herbs and spices, he used gauze from the first aid kit and made two poultices. He carefully slipped them under Jarod's bandage pressing them into the wound.

"Anti-infection?" She asked.

"Honey is a natural antibiotic, the rest are astringent and help prevent inflammation." He said.

Sampson stomped in with his son at his back a few seconds later. He and Methos locked wrists under Jarod's back, the boy took his legs and Candace held his head, together they gently moved the big pretender to a clean warm guest bed. Methos tucked him in securely and felt his forehead again.

"Same?" Candace asked. Methos nodded.

"Well, come on in and get some food in yeah, standing here worrying won't help either of you." Sampson rumbled. The boy stared at Methos, studying him.

"Thank you." Methos said quietly. He followed them into the kitchen.


	7. Chapter 7

"You shot him!" Sydney said, anguish and accusation thick in his voice.

"I did what I had to , and now we know where he is." Parker sneered.

"Your mother would be ashamed of you-"

Parker slapped Sydney.

"Don't you dare bring her in to this. Jarod is a liability, and if I don't bring him in before Lyle then the Centre will deal with me, do you understand that Sydney? Why are you here if you can't handle the idea of catching him?"

"I am trying to keep him safe!"

* * *

Methos ate a small portion of his meal. Candace tutted, while Thomas glared. Only Sampson tried to have a conversation.

"So what kinda work you in Ben? That was an awful nice suit."

"Consulting mostly." Methos said quietly. Sampson reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out Methos' phone.

"Found this in your suit jacket son, thought you'd like it back."

Methos took it gratefully. He typed in a code and then flipped it over pulled the battery and the sim card.

"Do you have a fireplace?" He asked. Candace nodded toward the stove, it was still warm from baking bread. Methos pulled can out of the trash and dumped the phone and sim into it and put it in the oven.

"You're a strange one son." Sampson grunted.

"I don't mean to be an asshole here but this guy's friend got shot Dad, these people are willing to shoot people if they come here they'll shoot us." Sampson set his fork down hard.

"He's right sir. I…I'm extremely grateful for all your help, you probably saved Jarod's life but we're putting you in danger just being here." Methos said tightly. He looked hard at Sampson. He wanted to stay, he wanted Jarod to rest and fight off the infection that was threatening to overwhelm him. But, they were putting the family in terrible danger.

"Sir, if they saw your license plate in the alley they could be coming here now, or laying in wait." He hated himself for saying it but he knew they had a right to know.

"Thomas, I want you to go get your jeep, load our camping gear in it. Candace sort out a good selection of canned goods and all the first aid gear we've got, Thomas load that up too. Mr. Adamson, soon as that's set up we'll see how your friend is doin' if he's fit to move."

"Sampson-"

"Boy's right Candace. We done our bit, now it's up to them."

Methos stood up and moved back to the guest room. Jarod was awake.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Methos asked softly.

"Where are we?" Jarod's brow was cool, Methos left his fingers there while lifting the blankets to examine the injury.

"Farm house, we're leaving soon."

"What happened?"

"An angry woman in a suit shot you. I tried to block it but I think I just slowed it down." Methos said putting the blankets back over Jarod.

"Parker shot me." Jarod murmured and slipped away again.

* * *

"Jeep's ready." Thomas said half an hour later. Methos nodded.

"We left room so he can lay down, be secure, and we got extra blankets." The boy sounded apologetic, nervous.

"It's okay Thomas, you've done the right thing. Report the gear and jeep as stolen as soon as you can."

"Good luck Mr. Adamson." The boy said almost regretful.

* * *

"I want to be there NOW Broots!" Parker snapped.

"Miss Parker it's not that simple, there's road work if we take a car it's going to take 45 minutes and the chopper is going to be in use for another half hour."

"On whose orders?"

"Mr. Raines." Broots said.

Parker closed her eyes and let out a slow breath.

"Get the car, we're going to beat skeletor there, Broots."

"Miss Parker, Jarod is injured-"

"Shut up Sydney, the Centre prefers to bring him in alive, _prefers_." Parker hissed icily.

* * *

"Ben, what's going on?" Jarod asked.

The family and Methos had carefully loaded Jarod into the back seat of the jeep. The rear compartment was stuffed with carefully packed gear and supplies. It made the jeep nose light and tricky to steer.

"We're on the move Jarod, we had to leave we were putting that family in danger."

"Good." Jarod whispered. Methos glanced at him in the rearview mirror. He looked pale.

Methos pulled off the narrow farm road and into a wooded area. He used a flashlight to study a map Thomas had given him.

"We have to find a place to hole up Jarod, you can't go far." Methos said, it was more to himself than his injured friend.

"Run Ben." Jarod muttered. Methos ground his teeth and kept studying the map. It would be nice if something popped out with a little sign that said PERFECT HIDEOUT HERE. Instead of getting frustrated he thought about Thomas. The young man had probably spent weeks out here during his childhood, camping with friends and exploring. This was his map.

Methos spread the map out on the passenger's seat. There were two sections that were more worn than the others. He looked closer. One was a lakeside, it would be a pleasant day trip but there wasn't anywhere to hide, the second looked like a high elevation wooded area. He turned the jeep on and headed for the second area. It looked like rough going but it would probably slow the Centre hunters.

* * *

It took him two hours of carefully negotiating a rutted and mud caked path to get halfway toward the wooded area. He paused to check the map and Jarod stirred.

"Hey calm down it's alright Jarod you're safe for now."

"Where are we?" He asked hoarsely. He seemed more aware than before. Methos felt a surge of relief.

"In the woods two hours from the farm. We have to hide." Far off they heard the muted rhythmic thud of a helicopter's blades.

"Ben –"

"I'm not leaving you Jarod." Methos said sternly.

"Okay." Jarod said sleepily. Methos smiled as Jarod slipped off again. He started the jeep and drove on.

* * *

"Miss Parker I …I just got the report on the blood from the alley."

"And?" She asked over her shoulder.

Sydney was reading Broots' laptop over his shoulder.

"It appears that both samples contain the Pretender anomaly." Sydney said intrigued.

"What? The lab rat found another Pretender?" Parker asked.

"The second Pretender's blood sample is not on file, he's a natural." Sydney added.

"This is perfect, we can bring Jarod back to the Centre along with a new toy for Mr. Raines." Parker said with a cruel smile.

* * *

"Jarod wake up. I need your help." Methos said softly. Methos had taken all their goods up to a cave, one liberally adorned with stick figures and Thomas' initals.

"We just have to get up there, the terrain is rough I can't carry you. Just stand up and lean on me." Methos encouraged. Jarod managed to stand shakily.

"Why are you doing this?" Jarod asked.

"I told you."

"If the Centre gets you-"

"Shh just walk Jarod. We're almost there." Methos grumbled. They made it into the mouth of the cave and a dozen or so feet in. Methos had a small fire going and a bed set up for Jarod. He lowered the Pretender to the bedding and made him comfortable. His forehead felt warm.

"I'm afraid your fever might be back." Methos said and set about changing Jarod's bandage and poultice. He didn't smell any corruption in the wound but the skin was inflamed and sensitive.

Methos boiled water and then put out the fire. He didn't sleep, sat up tending to Jarod until his fever broke and dawn arrived. The dull thudding of the chopper continued throughout the night. Once he heard an engine nearby. He took the time once it was daylight to drive the jeep down to a creek and abandon it. It took him an hour to hike back. Jarod was awake and sitting by the fire when Methos returned.

"You feel better?" Methos asked. Jarod nodded.

"They're looking for us. I think I've thrown them off the trail."

"If they hurt that family –" Jarod growled.

"They won't. We were only there for a couple hours, I told them to tell the police they had the jeep packed for a camping trip today and to report it stolen immediately."

"The Centre won't care, they'll use that family to draw us out."

"Garcia said you're a white knight. What did she mean?" Methos asked trying to change the subject.

Jarod stared at the dead fire for a moment.

"The Centre uses its power to crush people, they blackmail people by using their family against them, they kill parents and children because they can."

"So you help similar people, little people, being steamrolled by the powerful?" Methos asked.

"I try to."

Methos mulled that over for a few seconds.

"Shit. You're right, they will use them against us." Methos agreed.

"Can you travel?" Methos asked. By way of an answer Jarod tried to stand. He made it but he was shaky.

"Okay, stay here. Eat something I'll see what I can find out."

"Ben-" Methos met Jarod's eyes.

"Be careful they'll kill you to get to me." Jarod warned.

"Takes more than a gun." Methos replied.

* * *

Dressed in Sampson's worn cast offs and a pair of Thomas' boots Methos could blend better with the forest than in his suit. He moved quickly and quietly into the valley. He spotted a group near the abandoned jeep.

"He's here Sydney. I can feel it." Parker growled.

"I am not saying he isn't Miss Parker, only that finding him in this terrain is going to be very difficult." Sydney sighed.

"Miss Parker the Davison's reported their jeep stolen yesterday, said it was packed for a camping trip." Broots said.

"Well there's no gear here now. They must have off loaded." Sydney said.

"There's no blood. Either ma and pa hillbilly patched Jarod up or the other Pretender did." Parker grumbled.

* * *

Methos blinked, other Pretender? What the hell were they talking about?

"Either way they could not get far. If we're patient they'll have to surface."

"A siege Sydney?" Parker scoffed.

"Broots I want every sweeper team on the eastern seaboard here combing these woods. I want the Davisons on ice, if we can't drag Jarod out of his hole then we'll use them to force him out. _Now_ Broots." Parker ordered crisply. A man walked toward the jeep from just out of Methos sight line. Methos' jaw dropped it was the idiot bank manager, still sans thumb.

"Well sis, no luck?"

"Shut up Lyle, he's here, holed up like a rodent in its hole, probably familiar to you." Parker said with a mocking smile.

"You wound me. I've got dogs on the way. With luck they can get his scent from the jeep and we'll be able to grid search."

"Splendid." Parker said coldly.

Methos hadn't counted on dogs. The situation was spiraling out of control. If he acted now he could slip the net and get away free. That would mean leaving Jarod, trapped and hurt. Once he wouldn't have hesitated, now he'd die a real death before letting the Centre have Jarod. The certainty of that knowledge chilled Methos. He shook it off and slipped back up toward the cave.

* * *

Jarod was trying to put a pack together when Methos got there.

"We have to get out of here." He hissed as Methos took the pack out of his hands and set it down.

"I know. We have to split up." Methos said, he packed a light pack for Jarod and a heavier one for himself. He pulled out the map.

"They're gathered here, where I left the Jeep. I overheard them talking, they're bringing in dogs. I haven't heard the chopper in the last few hours. Our best bet –"

"Ben if I turn myself in –"

"It's gone beyond that now Jarod. They aren't just after you." Methos said steadily.

He told Jarod what he'd overheard.

"They think you're a Pretender?"

"They want me too so please stop talking about me leaving you. We're in this together."

"Okay. Together." Jarod said and smiled warmly. Methos felt something stir in his chest, a sense of comradeship... maybe even family.

They planned to separate, make their way out of the cave and the woods and rendezvous several miles downstream from the jeep.

"I will be there Jarod." Methos said with a small firm smile.

"Me too." He said and grinned, it was a tired and pale grin but still his. Methos gripped Jarod's healthy shoulder and nodded.

They split up and headed down to the river.

* * *

Methos heard shouts nearby and the baying of a hound. His heart sank; he immediately changed tactics and moved to intercept Jarod. He'd hoped there hadn't been time to bring the dogs in yet. Jarod couldn't move fast enough to evade the dogs.

After fifteen minutes Methos almost tripped over Jarod's abandoned pack. Methos grunted approvingly. They could forage or steal food but not if they were in Centre chains, he dropped his pack as well. The dogs sounded closer, he started to jog. He caught a glimpse of movement ahead of him. A large downed tree lay between him and it. He crouched and crept up to the log. He peered over it and saw a clearing several feet below. Jarod was standing in the clearing.

"That looks like it hurts." A man said, the voice was familiar. Methos moved slightly to get a better angle. The speaker was the banker.

"Lyle. You killed Kyle now you're going to kill me?"

"Nah, I'm just going to chain you and take you back to the Centre." Lyle laughed. A man stood at his side with a bloodhound on a lead.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" Jarod snarled.

Methos had to act fast. Once Jarod was cuffed –

"So much as breathe hard and I put a hole in your head." It was a low growl. Methos froze.

"Now slowly stand up and turn around."

Methos complied. A black man in a suit was glaring at him.

"Now don't move." The man snapped. He keyed a radio.

"I've got the other Pretender, he's on a rise near Jarod and Mr. Lyle."

"Excellent work Willie now keep him there." A woman's voice crackled back.

"Miss Parker?" Methos asked.

"You'll meet her soon enough." The man said.

A pained cry from the clearing drew the gunman's attention. Methos darted forward and disarmed him. Picking up the hand gun he leveled it at him.

"Give me your cuffs." He growled. He cuffed and gagged the man and moved around the clearing. He need to get a clear line on Lyle. He spotted a direct line. It revealed Lyle standing over Jarod. The Pretender was clutching his wounded shoulder. The man with the dog looked nervous and uncertain. Methos guessed he was a local brought in for the search.

"Put on the cuffs Jarod." Lyle ordered. He was holding a handgun inches from Jarod's head.

"Screw you." Jarod gasped.

Methos had seen enough, he rushed forward with a yell hoping to distract Lyle and his companion. Lyle twisted toward Methos, Jarod took advantage of the distraction to twist Lyle's wrist forcing the one-thumbed man to drop his weapon. The man and his dog ran into the woods.

Methos kicked Lyle in the belly doubling him over.

"Are you okay?" He asked Jarod.

"I think I'm bleeding again." Jarod hissed. Methos got him to his feet as Lyle likewise rose. Jarod leveled the pistol at him.

"Back off Lyle."

"I don't think so Jarod. This location has already been called in sweeper teams are converging as we speak. You and your new friend are going back to the Centre. We've got a nice cage waiting for you." Lyle smirked.

"What makes you think I'm a Pretender?" Methos asked. Jarod sagged against him for a moment then straightened. Running was going to be impossible.

"Answer me!" Methos yelled.

"Because you are. You both bled in D.C. the Centre analyzed the samples, Jarod's is on file, he has the genetic anomaly that makes him a Pretender, so do you." Lyle laughed.

Methos' mind spun. He heard movement in the woods. He stepped forward and kicked Lyle in the face.

"Come on Jarod stay with me, we just need to get to the river." Methos hissed. They started lurching through the woods downhill toward the river. Methos heard pursuit and shouts.

"We'll steal a car, come on." He encouraged Jarod. The Pretender was sweating and pale but he set his jaw and kept moving as well he could. His shirt was wet, Methos wasn't sure if it was blood or sweat.

They spotted a black SUV through the trees. Methos pushed Jarod harder. To his glee the keys were in the ignition. He helped Jarod in and then started it. He raced downriver toward what the map promised was a road. Within five minutes Methos saw the road.

"See Jarod? We're going to make it there's the road."

The car shut off.

"What?" Methos said desperately and got out of the car. He popped the hood while trying to keep an eye on the woods behind them. The engine looked fine.

"Shit, come one we're on foot again." He said. Jarod groaned but tried to get up. The two men looked like contestants in a three legged race as they lurched along the road.

Methos could hear a vehicle engine approaching. Another SUV pulled into sight. It parked with the engine running. The passenger's side door opposite the two men opened. Methos waited tensed.

"Jarod, at last." The woman from D.C. said as she rounded the SUV and faced them.

"Let him go Parker." Jarod said tiredly.

"Oh I don't think so lab rat, he got himself involved. Think of it this way, at least you'll have company."

"Your…mother wouldn't want this." Jarod said.

"My mother is dead Jarod, and if I don't want to join her I need to bring you home. It's time Jarod." She said quietly.

The passenger rear door opened and an older man stepped out. He has gray hair going white and a tired but kind face.

"Sydney, you can't let this happen, you owe me." Jarod begged. The man looked away, ashamed, but didn't move. Methos heard footsteps behind them. He turned to look as the black man he'd cuffed appeared, he was holding a dart gun. He raised it and pointed it at Methos.

"It's time to come home Jarod." Parker said and the man fired the dart.


	8. Chapter 8

"Sir I may know where they went." Garcia said. The team were in the conference room again. Prentiss and Garcia had returned on Hotch's orders after reporting their run in with Methos.

"Okay so about five hours or so after we ran into him on the Mall there was a chase with shots fired here." She dropped a virtual pin on a virtual map of the city.

"Reports say that two men matching Ben and his friend's descriptions were seen fleeing a group of armed men and one woman. One of them was injured. Now, apparently they lost the baddies at some point because witnesses say they all piled into a rental car and took off before officers arrived. I have traced that car to an account registered to a corporation out of Delaware –"

"The Centre." Hotch said stonily.

"Uh, yes sir." Garcia said surprised.

"We're going to have to contact the director, The Centre is on a watch list. They've been implicated in everything from tax evasion and corporate espionage to arms dealing and human traficking." Hotchner said.

"Right, uh from what I can dig up they are ostensibly a high powered think tank. But they have a very very shady reputation and their level of security is on par with high end government stuff." Garcia agreed.

"Did you get in?" Hotchner asked.

"Yes-ish. I mean I got in but I'm pretty sure I'm just seeing what they want me to. These guys have major security I'd need a team to get any further."

"Keep trying. I'll make some calls. Prentiss you can go. The BAU won't be handling this if he contacts you let me know."

"Hotch what are you going to tell the director? About him?" Prentiss asked. She didn't need to elaborate on the 'him'.

"I'll tell him a consultant of ours was attacked twice today and now he's gone missing and the trail dead ends with the Centre."

"Okay." Prentiss said. She was frowning and thinking.

"Prentiss please understand that the best people will be on this, this just isn't our purview." Hotchner said quietly.

"I know Hotch, it's just that, I don't know, I guess I feel responsible somehow. If I 'd kept them at the scene, insisted on –"

"Prentiss, this is Methos we're talking about, he would never make an official statement." Hotchner chided gently. Prentiss nodded reluctantly.

* * *

When the dart hit Methos it dropped him almost instantly. With Methos' support gone Jarod's knees buckled and he hit the dirt. Parker cuffed him herself, none too gently.

"Willy, load him in the SUV, Sydney you can tend your pet, we're going back _now_. " Parker growled. Willy threw Jarod into the back seat, the Pretender shouted as his injured shoulder hit the seat back.

"What about the other one?" Willy asked.

"Stick him in the trunk with the luggage." Parker said with a smirk. Broots sat up front while Sydney sat on one side of Jarod and Parker on the other. Willy drove. They pulled out just as Lyle stumbled up to the dead SUV clutching the side of his head.

"Shit." He sighed.

* * *

"Sydney, don't, don't take me back, please Sydney." Jarod groaned.

"Is he delirious?" Parker snapped. Sydney had managed to staunch Jarod's bleeding.

"No, he's terrified." Sydney snapped back.

"Oh gee Syd little late to give a damn." Parker snorted. Jarod kept pleading.

"Shut him up, gag him if you have to." Parker ordered. Broots was going through the standard issue Centre first aid kit in the front seat.

"What's wrong Parker? Conscience pricking you?" Sydney growled.

"Please Sydney if you care about me don't do this." Jarod begged.

"I'm sorry Jarod." Sydney said tenderly voice thick with unshed tears.

"Oh please, Broots, give me that." Parker ordered. Broots handed the kit over, Parker glanced through it.

"Miss Parker your mother would never –" Jarod broke off and screamed as Parker jambed her thumb into his wound, the agony tipped him over into unconsciousness.

"There, that was easy." She said shakily. She avoided Sydney's eyes. She'd lost her temper. She knew what her mother would think of her actions but she was pretty sure her mother would be more upset if Parker were killed for failing to bring in Jarod. Pretty sure.

* * *

Methos was unconscious for most of the drive. He woke up as the SUV was entering the Centre compound. He'd been bound at some point, ankles, knees, hips and then a band around his waist pinning his arms to his torso and handcuffed. He felt like a fish. He seemed to be lying on several suitcases. He remembered Jarod saying something about having a bag, one they'd never managed to collect. He peered over the back of the seat. Jarod had been seated between the woman in the suit and the older man. He was slumped against the older man apparently unconscious.

"Oh look who woke up." Parker sneered over her shoulder at Methos.

"Screw you bitch." Methos grunted. It wasn't clever but it was heartfelt.

"Raines will be pleased, you've finally captured Jarod and brought him another Pretender." Sydney said numbly. Jarod's head was cradled against his shoulder.

"Like I care what that wheezing psychotic thinks."

"Don't you? Isn't _he _the reason you're doing this because your career depends on it?"

"If I bring in Jarod yes I get a promotion, however, if I _don't_ bring him in they're going to kill me. It's him or me Syd and I like me a helluva lot more than I like him." Parker said crisply.

They parked and the driver got out. Methos ground his teeth. He wasn't going inside that building if he could help it. They'd taped him with duct tape so he wasn't going to get free easily but he was willing to bet the older man would help them escape if he could just take care of Parker and the gun man then maybe Jarod could make a break for it, he'd escaped once before.

The four able bodied people climbed out leaving Jarod and Methos alone in the car for a few seconds.

"Jarod, if you can hear me I'm going to try to take down Parker, if you get a chance run like hell, if one of us is free the other can hold out, just get away." He whispered quickly.

The back door opened and Willy leaned in to pull Methos out, Methos coiled up like an inch worm and kicked out at Willie hitting him square in the face. The sweeper's arms flung up and he dropped like a bag of spuds. Parker drew her weapon and gestured for Broots to pull Methos out.

"Try anything cute and I put a bullet in your heart stranger." She sneered.

Methos allowed Broots to pull him out of the trunk and then flung himself at Parker. Jarod used the distraction to slip out of the rear seat and around the front of the SUV. Parker stepped backwards and put a bullet in Methos' knee.

Methos gasped as pain shot through his left side radiating from the shattered knee cap.

"I lied. Broots, get him up." Sydney moved to hide Jarod from Parker's line of sight.

Parker pulled her cell out and requested more security to take Methos inside.

As she put her phone away Sydney moved toward Parker and Jarod made a second break for it. Broots had his hands full with Methos and Sydney 'inadvertently' knocked Parker's cell phone out of her hand.

"Damn you Sydney." She hissed reaching for her phone as Jarod sprinted deeper in to the maze of the Centre.

"I already am Miss Parker." Sydney sighed.

Methos laughed.

"What are you laughing at sad sack? You're ours now. Mr. Raines is going to be very interested in you." She hissed coldly and pistol whipped him. He went limp in Broots arms. The lean programmer grunted and adjusted to Methos' dead weight.

"This is Parker, Jarod is loose in the upper compound, lock down the Centre." She ordered.

"Broots, Sydney, stay here, security is on the way. Broots make sure they take Jarod's friend to the secured sub levels. Syd, we'll talk later." Parker hissed and trotted after Jarod.

"She'd make better time without those shoes." Broots muttered.

* * *

Jarod's shoulder was one throbbing mass of pain. Each beat of his heart sent searing tendrils through his body. He had to stop running. He slowed and trotted to an outlet vent for the internal air system. He leaned against it for a moment catching his breath.

"Jarod hurt?" The voice was familiar. Jarod pulled away from the vent. Daylight filtering through the vent revealing a craggy visage and wide blue eyes.

"Angelo?" Jarod asked in joyful relief.

"Jarod hurt." He said sadly.

"It's good to see you Angelo." Jarod said crouching down and slipping his fingers into the vent. Angelo took Jarod's fingers in his own.

"Jarod hurt." Angelo whimpered.

"I'll be okay Angelo, Miss Parker has a friend of mine, he's tied up I need to get to him."

Angelo pushed the vent cover off and beckoned to Jarod.

Jarod struggled to keep up with Angelo. The smaller man had spent a good portion of his life scurrying through the Centre via the internal ducts and storage areas. Not being able to use one arm wasn't helping the pretender's progress. Finally Angelo slowed and paused at another grate.

"Jarod hurt." He said again. Jarod peered through the vent. Angelo had lead him to the Centre's renewal wing where long term care patients and patients with severe injuries were housed.

"Good job Angelo." Jarod said. He carefully opened the grate and snuck out. He stole painkillers and material to bandage his injury as well as a syringe of penicillin. Once back inside the grate he dosed himself and patched the wound. Feeling better thanks to the medication he started to follow Angelo again.

* * *

"Fuck you!" Methos screeched as the security team started to haul him into the Centre, in the five minutes it had taken them to arrive he'd come to. He knew in his bones that once he was in there the odds of getting out again were very very poor, _particularly _when they figured out he couldn't die.

* * *

"Save the man." Angelo crooned over and over as he lead Jarod deeper into the bowels of the Centre.

"Angelo wait." Jarod said. Angelo paused and carefully faced Jarod in the tight crawlspace.

"Angelo, I want you to come with us, when we leave, would you like that?"

"Angelo stay, Angelo see." Angelo said.

"Okay Angelo, you're the boss." Jarod said sadly. Once, for a short time Angelo had been Timmy again, the person he'd been before Raines' cruel process had stripped his upper consciousness rendering Angelo into a brilliant empath, and leaving his other skills completely absent or crippled. As they started crawling again Jarod thought about the beautiful piano music Angelo, no _Timmy_, had played for him that long ago day. Timmy had sacrificed himself to save a young boy, willingly became Angelo again. One more of many crimes the Centre had to answer for.

"Save the man!" Angelo insisted. Jarod had been lost in thought and hadn't realized Angelo had stopped at yet another grate. This one was overhead. Jarod positioned himself to try to peer through the grate and see if anyone was in the room. He heard steps and drew back slightly.

* * *

"This is the other Pretender?" A wheezing voice demanded.

"Yes Mr. Raines. Uh Miss Parker wanted him brought in until they can find Jarod."

"A wild Pretender, fascinating. What do we know about him?" Raines hissed.

"Uh not much Mr. Raines, he didn't have I.D. and won't give us a name. Jarod called him Ben. We're running his description and fingerprints but so far we don't have much."

"Interesting, what kind of man in this day and age can be so thoroughly hidden from prying eyes?" Raines mused.

* * *

Jarod ground his teeth in frustration. He couldn't see Raines or Ben just hear Raines' wheezing voice.

"Very well Mr. Broots. You may return to your duties."

"Uh Miss Parker asked me to stay with him, until Jarod's in custody, she thinks he might come for him."

"I will be here Mr. Broots. You are dismissed."

Jarod felt like screaming. Ben was so close, if Raines found out what he could do the crazed man would never allow Ben out of his sight.

"Save the man." Angelo insisted.

"Angelo, do you know where the fire alarm system is?" Jarod asked. Angelo grinned and then hurried off still chanting. A fire alarm wouldn't do the trick, they would naturally assume it was him doing it, but what it _would _do was lead Jarod to the proper wiring to monkey with the Centre's lockdown protocol. If he engaged that then Raines would be in lockdown with Ben and unable to call for backup. If the lockdown lasted long enough the three of them - he would do his best to convince Angelo to come with them - might make it out entirely.

The wiring bundle Angelo lead him to was a mass of multicolored wires. Jarod sighed and set to work.

* * *

Methos glared up at the bald ghoul.

"Looks like you tried to cuddle a blowtorch gorgeous." Methos hissed. He was praying the emaciated man wouldn't examine his now healed knee.

"Brave words for a man entirely at my tender mercies." Raines wheezed and cackled.

"Jesus, what are you? A third rate bond villain?" Methos growled.

"I am Mr. Raines." The man hissed. He'd been slowly circling Methos and now he was positioned at his feet, skeletal hands reaching for Methos' wound.

* * *

Jarod grinned at Angelo.

"Ready?"

"Save the man." Angelo said sternly. Jarod connected two wires and klaxons started to ring out.

"Let's go Angelo!" Jarod said gleefully and the two set off back toward the grate.

* * *

Raines' hands shot back to his oxygen tank as klaxons rang out. He let out a low snakelike hissing noise of displeasure and lurched toward the exit. He made it through just as a blast door clanged down sealing the room. Methos immediately started to examine his chains. The grate in the floor rattled and clanked and Jarod's head appeared.

"Miss me?" He asked with a grin.

"What are you doing here?" Methos asked amazed and relieved.

"Returning a favor." Jarod said, he winced as he crawled out of the hole.

"Jarod you should run, leave me –"

"They think you're a Pretender Ben, they'll run tests, they'll find out what you are, think about a place like this with someone like you to study."

Methos stopped protesting.

"We need to get you out of these." Jarod muttered. The room was a medical laboratory of some kind. He searched through drawers and equipment trays until he found a tiny spray bottle of pressurized liquid nitrogen and returned to Methos.

He leaned over Methos and sprayed the coolant onto the chains connected to the manacles and shackles on Methos' limbs. In seconds the immortal was free, he had new bracelets and anklets but he could move.

"Wait." Methos said and snatched up a sling he'd spotted during Jarod's search. He fitted it to Jarod.

"Now maybe you won't pop that thing open. Let's go."

Methos froze when Angelo popped his head out of the hole in the floor.

"This is Angelo, he's a friend, he brought me to you."

"Nice to meet you Angelo." Methos said and offered Angelo his hand. Angelo popped back into the hole. Methos shrugged and followed.

It was a tight fit at first but Methos soon grew used to moving in the confined space. Methos couldn't help but wonder how Jarod, three inches taller and injured, was moving as well as he was.

"Jarod where are we going?"

"We're getting out of here."

"Wait." Methos said. The three men paused. Angelo looked anxious.

"If we leave now they're going to keep chasing us. We have to put a stop to this." Methos growled coldly.

"Ben, there are innocent people working here. We can't hurt them and the Centre has dozens of facilities around the world. Taking out this one won't change anything-"

"I'm not talking about that. Look what is the one thing that would bring the Centre down or at least hurt it badly enough to leave us alone?"

"Light." Angelo said.

Jarod grinned wanly.

"Expose their dirty secrets to the light."

"Exactly."

"We can get to the hard copy files, I've never been able to get to them from the outside."

"Let's go." Methos urged.

Angelo seemed to understand, he lead them down deeper than they'd sense of time was lost as they delved into the maze of ducts and access shafts. After awhile the temperature dropped and a low humming noise filled the shafts.

"What is that?" Methos asked.

"If there's a mainframe down here it's probably temperature controlled, my guess is that's the cooling system." Jarod answered.

"Cold below." Angelo muttered.

"You know Jarod they might have information on your parents down here." Methos said carefully.

"I know." He said shortly. Methos glanced back at him and was alarmed to see he was basically dragging himself forward.

"Jarod!" Methos said stunned and twisted in the tight shaft to reach him.

Angelo made a plaintive noise.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Methos asked helping the bigger man to sit up.

"No time to stop, listen to me Ben, the lock down will end any second now, you have to get the data and get back here, they'll know we're using the vents." Jarod whispered.

"Jarod, we can come back for the data." Methos said knowing it was a lie.

"No. We can't."

"Angelo can I carry him? Is it possible to leave the shaft now?"

Angelo hurried forward and tugged a grate open. Methos hoped the strange troglodyte of a man had understood the problem. Either way he had to get Jarod out of the shaft.

"Jarod sick." Angelo said nearly hysterical.

"Shhh it's okay Angelo, get us to the mainframe and we'll get Jarod fixed up, okay?" Methos said desperate to calm the strange man. It was entirely possible that Angelo could be his only lifeline if Jarod passed out or worse.

"Okay big guy I'm going to need you to help me as much as you can Jarod, I can't handle your deadweight." Methos grunted. He carefully supported Jarod on his hip avoiding the man's wound and adjusted his weight.

"Angelo please take us to the mainframe." Methos half ordered half begged. The little man took off at a fast pace. Methos ground his teeth and did his best to keep up. He led them through service tunnels and maintenance bays. Finally he slowed and stopped. He was pointing at a door marked high voltage. Methos grunted and adjusted Jarod's weight.

"Jarod? You still with me?"

"I'm here." Jarod whispered without raising his head.

Methos felt desperation and despair warring in his gut. He leaned Jarod against the wall next to the door and tried the knob. He almost laughed when it proved to be unlocked. He cracked it open and got a grip on Jarod again.

"Hey Jarod, wake up, I need you to tell me what files we need to take, okay?" He ignored the strident near hysteria in his voice and swallowed hard. Jarod's eyes fluttered open, his cheeks were coals of fever, his flesh pale and clammy.

"Anything level 9 or higher…anything about …me." He whispered.

"Stay awake Jarod, keep it together, just a few more minutes and we can get out of here okay?" Methos said. He carefully lowered Jarod to the ground. Angelo crept close and held Jarod's hand.

"Jarod sick." He crooned and touched his friend's face.

Methos hurried into the server room. There was one terminal. He took a deep breath and logged on. The security settings were lax, amazingly so. Suspicious of a trap Methos carefully explored the security settings and parameters of the mainframe. Reasonably satisfied that any traps were beyond his abilities to detect or prevent he started skimming and downloading files to a removable hard drive. He checked the terminal's clock and cursed. It was taking too long. He clucked his tongue and entered a wildcard search for any file level 9 or higher and anything mentioning or pertaining to Jarod. He filled the hard drive then paused. He had a choice to make, he could log out and cover their tracks or, if the security was really as crap as it seemed he could create a backdoor and send a message to Garcia. The clever hacker could demolish their system and clean out the files if she had access.

Methos stepped back from the terminal and studied the room. It looked to be a stand alone data back up center, there wouldn't be any WIFI access. Although, it wouldn't be unheard of for an ethernet cord to be running through the room. Maintenance had to be done by someone as well as backups. He grinned when he spotted the familiar blue cord. He plugged it into one of the server racks and set up a few lines of command code. He hit enter with a sense of vindication. As long as that cord stayed plugged in and Garcia was at her workstation the Centre was fucked.

He unplugged the hard drive and tucked it into the rear waistband of his jeans. Methos carefully logged off the terminal and left the room. Jarod was out cold.

"Angelo, is there somewhere we can take him? He needs to be safe, to rest, somewhere dry and warm with water." He asked gently. Angelo seemed to think and then nodded.

The only way Methos could carry the big man was with a modified Fireman's carry. He hadn't dared it before because just picking him up was guaranteed to be seriously painful and would likely have forced Jarod to cry out and possibly expose them. As it was the Pretender was as limp as a bag of rags. Methos grunted under his friend's weight and started to follow Angelo.

* * *

"Okay Garcy what is this?" Garcia muttered to herself. She frowned at a blinking alert on her GUI.

"Someone wants to play?" She muttered and clicked on the warning.

_Garcia, follow the backdoor provided to get all the dirt on the Centre, if you could get Hotch to unclench and send backup to save my ass I'll be eternally grateful.  
_

_B._

Under the message a URL flashed.

"Holy crap." Garcia squeaked and reached for her phone.

"Uh yes sir, it's about the Centre…no I realize you asked us to stay away from it, it's just uh well, Ben sent me a message, from _inside _the Blue Cove location it looks like a backdoor into their server, should I access it? Right, yes immediately. Also the message says that he needs backup to, and I quote, 'save his ass'. Right away sir." She babbled and started the download.

As the download progressed fragments of files and data crawled across her screen. Images of a young boy dressed in a white tunic, images of the boy in different scenarios, status reports, reams of data and one name throughout, Jarod. Finally a photo flashed onto the screen. Garcia clearly recognized the man that had been running with Ben.

"Jarod?" She asked.

* * *

"Jarod, wake up, c'm'on just for a minute." Methos pleaded. He gripped the man's jaw and patted his frighteningly hot cheek.

"What?" Jarod whined eyes flickering open.

"Hey there you are look." Methos said and waved the hard drive in front of Jarod's eyes.

"Oh good." Jarod said, his tone was oddly childish.

"Listen, Angelo is going to take us somewhere we can hide, you've got a fever again, we have to get you back on your feet and then we're out of here. Now, this is important, I gave a friend of mine access to the mainframe, she's going to download everything she can and if possible send us some help. If…if we get separated remember this name, Penelope Garcia at the BAU, can you remember that Jarod?"

Jarod seemed to be out again.

"Jarod!" Methos hissed.

"Penelope … Garcia…" he muttered.

"Okay, good as it gets." Methos sighed and hefted Jarod back onto his shoulders, the Pretender moaned at the motion and pressure on his shoulder.

"Come on Angelo." Methos gasped and started walking again.


	9. Chapter 9

The hidey hole Angelo took them to was perfect. Apparently it was located above a heat outlet for the mainframe cooling system. It was warm and dry and anyone searching for the trio would have a hard time distinguishing their heat signatures from the background heat. Water was available as well, the cooling system also collected moisture to keep components from corroding. The water was collected and stored. Methos and Angelo tended Jarod as best they could. Angelo even snuck back to the renewal wing and came back with an array of drugs. A powerful fourth generation antibiotic among them.

"Good job Angelo, if this doesn't kill him it'll cure him." Methos said. Jarod's fever still hadn't broken. So Methos took a deep breath and gave the Pretender half the syringe. He waited an hour and then administered the other half. He held Jarod's hand and waited.

Without realizing it he fell asleep and dreamed.

"_Why do you do this brother?" Kronos asked. His face was painted blue like the horsemen days but he wore the leather jacket and jeans he'd died in._

"_Because we have to make amends Kronos."_

"_Why? Those people would be dead now regardless of us, it's the past brother!"_

"_NO! Kronos! It isn't! I'm still here! I still know what we CHOSE to do! If I can help this man, this good kind man then maybe some of what I've done will be balanced!"_

_The ground opened up underneath Methos and he was falling, falling and laughing and not afraid._

"Have to balance." He muttered and sat up abruptly.

Jarod's hand was cool in his, he panicked fearing the worst. He sat up and leaned forward pressing his forefingers against the pale pretender's throat. His skin wasn't cool Methos realized, it was just normal, his pulse was strong and steady and his fever had broken.

"Oh thank gods." He sighed. Angelo sat up in his corner and leaned against Methos' shoulder.

"Jarod better." Angelo said happily. Methos put an arm around Angelo's shoulder.

"Yeah, Jarod better."

Jarod woke up an hour or so later.

"Remind me to stop getting shot." He whispered hoarsely.

Methos helped him sit up and drink some water.

"I've never been able to master that myself." Methos said with a smile.

"It's becoming an annual tradition." Jarod whispered.

"Well as long as you keep surviving it I've no objections." Methos said gently.

"Where are we?" Jarod asked.

"The Centre." Methos said carefully. Angelo leaned over Jarod and grinned.

"Angelo, are you hiding us?" Jarod asked. Angelo ducked his head shyly and returned to his corner.

"He's a remarkable man." Methos said and offered Jarod more water.

"Yes he is." Jarod agreed.

While Methos had been tending Jarod Angelo had insured the men had ample food and water, bedding and then single handedly set about teaching Methos about Jarod. He'd brought a silver case with some kind of viewer and a stack of small CDs. Each CD was a videodisc depicting some section of Jarod's imprisoned childhood and the people in it.

Methos had found a kindred spirit in Jarod, except that instead of bowing to the cruelty and control of his life Jarod had risen above it. He'd dedicated his life to helping victims and defending the defenseless. While Methos had slaughtered out of fear and hatred Jarod had reached out with love and compassion. Jarod made the five thousand year old man feel humble.

Jarod noticed the case and the DSAs.

"Angelo's been giving you the tour." Jarod sighed.

Methos didn't answer for a moment.

"When I was a young man I was bought by another immortal. He…he was a cruel man. He broke me in a way and he taught me that the only way to be safe was to be cruel, to take power, and inflict your will on others."

He paused and sipped from a tumbler of water.

"That's how the Centre runs." Jarod said coldly.

"Yes it is. For a while it was how I ran as well. I did truly terrible things Jarod. I killed innocent people, I raped, I beat people, and I stole."

"You're a rapist and murderer?" Jarod asked his tone cautious.

"I don't know anymore. Now, I run from challenges, I spent two hundred years without taking a head. Killing can't be undone. All crimes are thefts, but the theft of life is the greatest because it can't be restored. I don't think I understood that. I was so afraid and so angry for a very long time. I changed but my crimes still exist."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Methos sighed and set his water down.

"Because we made a deal. Now you have some idea of what I was…am. This is why I have to help you Jarod. You were stolen from the people that loved you most, forced into a cage and treated like a tool, and instead of exacting vengeance, a fully justified choice, you ran away and kept running trying to find your family. You did what I couldn't, or wouldn't."

"You think if you help me you'll repay some of your debt?" Jarod asked weakly.

Methos smiled sadly.

"No Jarod, what I've done can't be undone, you can't give life back. All I can do is stop hiding, and start trying to help people, live the life I should have chosen then."

Jarod was quiet for so long that Methos thought he'd fallen asleep.

"Okay." Jarod said simply.

Methos looked up at him.

"When … how long ago did you do this?" Jarod asked.

Methos stared at his hands.

"For 1300 hundred years, before the rise of city states, I rode as Death with the Four Horsemen." Methos almost gasped it. He couldn't look at Jarod, tears streaked his cheeks as he stared at his palms.

Jarod didn't reply.

"Methos sad. So sad." Angelo said and leaned against the immortal. Methos sobbed once and choked back further cries.

He had never just admitted his pat to anyone except Gideon, even then it had been dragged out of him, and as understanding, as kind as Gideon had been about it he'd been partially acting as a therapist. Everyone else that had found out had been told by others. Or, in Cassandra's case, lived it.

"Who's Methos?" Jarod asked after a while.

"That's my name." Methos said hollowly. His tears had dried to a salty crust on his cheeks.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jarod asked quietly.

"I'm the oldest living immortal. The others will hunt me as a prize…for my quickening if they know that I'm real."

"Mythos, Methos." Jarod said and smiled thinly.

"Chicken or egg." Methos replied with a small smile.

"I don't know what you were then Ben, but you're my friend, you risked your life to save mine before I really even knew you." Jarod said hoarsely.

* * *

"Are you really standing there and telling me that you can't find Jarod, IN the Centre?" Miss Parker all but roared at the hapless sweeper teams in front of her.

"I want dogs, I want every one of you to crawl down ever crawlspace, vent, shaft, nook and cranny in this place and FIND JAROD!"

The sweepers wisely scattered.

Broots and Sydney lurked out of her immediate wrath range.

"It's been three days Sydney. The Centre lawyers are up to their ears in federal probes and warrants and Jarod and his playmate have apparently vanished without ever actually _leaving _the Centre." Parker growled.

She was pacing her office.

"The Centre is enormous Miss Parker, how long had we been here before Jarod lead us to SL 27? An entire abandoned floor? Have patience Miss Parker, Jarod will show himself."

"You, are in the penalty box Syd, don't talk to me about Jarod showing up again not when every time he does you do your best to let him out." Parker growled.

* * *

"Hotch, I get that it's not our investigation but he asked us for help and we're sitting on our hands."

"Unfortunately Prentiss this group has a cadre of high level lawyers and more funding than most small countries to tie us up in court."

"Ben's cry for help is just cause!"

"Prentiss, I spent years as a prosecutor, I know exactly what comprises just cause. I wish we could charge in and save Ben but we can't."

"Three days Hotch." Prentiss said coldly and left his office.

* * *

"Feel like getting out of here?" Methos asked.

Jarod's appetite had returned and he seemed to be regaining his strength.

"Yes, very much so." Jarod said with his characteristic grin. Neither man had mentioned Methos' confession.

"Right, Angelo seems to know the best way out. With any luck the feds are giving the Centre grief so security will be in disarray."

"How long have we been here?"

"I don't really know lost track of time. Couple days at least."

"Let's not make it another day."

"You fit to walk?"

"Only one way to find out." Jarod said and got to his feet. He was shaky but after a few minutes of pacing he had his rhythm back.

"I don't know if you'll be running any time soon but it's good enough for me. We'll need transportation out of here anyway."

"Don't worry about that, I've got a plan." Jarod grinned.

* * *

Prentiss had taken her annual leave early. She hadn't been able to sit on her hands and wait to see if Ben got into contact with them or the agents and lawyers investigating the Centre found a headless body. She was parked outside the Centre in a rental car, staring at the grand edifice.

She knew he was in there, felt it in her gut. Her cell rang, she glanced at the number and recognized Reid's cell. She debated not answering.

"Prentiss."

"We have a way in."

* * *

Jarod tired faster than either man had anticipated. They were taking a break and talking quietly when Angelo appeared and frantically gestured for Jarod and Methos to follow him.

"What's wrong Angelo?" Jarod asked gently.

Angelo didn't answer simply picked up his pace. He lead them to an outside grate facing a parking area.

"We can't leave from here Angelo, it's too high." Methos sighed. Jarod frowned down at the parking lot. A group of four people were standing and talking.

"That woman is familiar." He said pointing at a tall brunette.

"Prentiss?" Methos asked stunned.

"Your federal friends?" Jarod asked.

"Yeah, that's…Prentiss, Hotchner, Reid and Morgan."

"No Garcia?"

"You remembered?"

"I was feverish not deaf."

Methos chuckled.

"I don't know where she is but as long as she's near a computer she's worth thrice her weight in gold." Methos grinned.

As they watched another car pulled up and and Rossi got out.

"More friends?" Jarod half asked half suggested.

"Dave Rossi. I wouldn't call him a friend exactly but he's definitely a friendly."

"Why are they here?"

"I gave Garcia a backdoor into the mainframe. I'm guessing they found out about some of the Centre's activities and weren't pleased. "

"The B.A.U. profiles serial crimes, bombers, poisoners, the Centre is …Mr. Lyle." Jarod murmured.

"The thumbless psychotic?"

"Miss Parker's younger fraternal twin brother, yes."

"He's a serial killer?"

"At least four women I know of, two when he was in college, one in Las Vegas, and a young frightened waitress, she worked a few blocks from here. He prefers Asian women."

"That's right up the B. A.U.'s jurisdictional alley. Multi-state offenses makes it federal." Methos agreed.

"We can use them as a distraction." Jarod suggested.

"Will that work for your plan?" Methos asked.

"Yeah, I think so." Jarod murmured still watching the agents.

* * *

"UNSUB's name is Bobby Bowman, he's been linked to at least three murders, all of the victims were young Asian women. He's going by the name Lyle now. We have a warrant to take him into custody and search his office and any area he routinely has access to. As we all know this place has more lawyers than the average convention so expect resistance. Remember Ben and his friend might be here somewhere keep your eyes open we may not get another chance to get in here." Rossi said and lead the team toward the entrance.

* * *

"Jarod, your plan is to walk into the lobby and walk out with the B.A.U. agents?"

"Yes."

"You can't help thumbing your nose at them can you?"

"It's what I do best!"

* * *

With Angelo's cheerful help they found a grate that overlooked the main lobby of the Centre. They peered through and spotted Rossi and Hotchner speaking with what had to be a pair of lawyers while the rest of the team studied the lobby and everyone passing through it.

"Angelo, I want you to come with us, we'll keep you safe -"

"Angelo stay. Angelo need Centre."

Jarod looked stricken but he didn't try again. He gave Angelo a heartfelt hug.

"Be careful Angelo." He said gently. Methos smiled warmly at the little man and shook his hand.

"Ready?" Methos asked.

"After you." Jarod grinned.

Methos kicked the grate out, it hit the polished floor with an almost insulting crash. Everyone in the lobby froze and all eyes clicked to the grate. Methos jumped out and landed next to the grate.

"Took you long enough." He said to the slack jawed B.A.U. agents. Jarod jumped next to him, wobbled a bit and then straightened up.

"I feel like sushi for lunch, thoughts?" He asked the B.A.U. agents.

"Ben?" Prentiss asked.

"Hey Emily, guess you got my note." Methos grinned. He could feel Jarod at his side. Feel the eyes of all the security operatives boring into the Pretender.

"Sushi?" She asked Jarod.

"Sushi!" He agreed.

"Agent Prentiss, please escort these men back to the office, the rest of us will remain here to serve the warrants." Hotchner requested. Methos could have sworn he saw the most minute of smiles flash across ever stoic Hotchner's face.

"Yes sir." Prentiss said. Methos and Jarod fell in behind her as she carefully walked toward the exit.

"See you next time." Jarod said cheerfully as a glowering Parker quietly fumed at him.

Prentiss maintained her calm stroll until the trio piled into her rental car and they were clear of the Centre compound. Then she pulled over and glared daggers at Methos.

"What the hell was that?" She demanded.

"Jarod has a sense of humor." Methos sighed.

"Right I'm going back to the local headquarters and you two are coming with me." She sighed and pulled back onto the road.

Methos closed his eyes relieved to be free of the Centre at last. He could smell himself, blood had dried in his hair, his jeans were torn and bloodied from his old wound and Jarod's open wound had bled onto his shirt. Jarod wasn't in any better shape, he seemed to be sleeping. He was still too pale and had lost weight during his fever.

Prentiss had them both examined at an E.R. before taking them to the office. Jarod was given an intravenous round of vitamins and fluids while Methos filled Prentiss in on what he knew of the Centre.

"Jeez Ben, how'd you get out?"

"Jarod's broken out twice before. He had a plan, we saw you in the parking lot and decided it would be easier just to meet you. Funnier too. Jarod likes to mess with them."

"Can't blame him. I'll give Garcia a call, see if she still has the file she sent you, maybe she can find out more about his parents."

"He'll appreciate that."

They watched Jarod for a moment he was watching TV and talking with his nurse.

"How…" Prentiss started to ask and trailed off.

"How is he such a decent person considering how he was raised and what was done to him?" Methos asked wryly.

"Yeah, I mean, he…god if anyone ever had a reason to be bitter or angry i'ts him."

* * *

"Miss Parker he is in federal custody, not even Mr. Lyle can get to him now." Sydney sighed.

"Besides with all the data the Centre lost CYA is gonna be a way of life, they aren't going to care about Jarod for a while." Broots said with a stuttering nervous laugh.

"I care Broots, _I_ care about Jarod."

"Why? You know his father did not kill your mother, you know your mother died trying to save you both from the Centre, and you know the last time they caught him they _tortured _him. Why do you still want to capture him?" Sydney demanded.

"Well, lemme think Syd, maybe it's because I don't want to wake up dead because my dear sociopathic little brother got him first. Maybe that's it." She sneered. All three of them knew that wasn't it. If Lyle ever lucked out and actually got his hands on Jarod again it would be easy enough to screw up Lyle's plans and make sure Jarod never made it to the Centre.

"What would you like us to do?" Sydney asked.

"I want eyes on the federal cop shop I want to know exactly when Jarod and his bosom buddy leave."

"The deep background search on Ben came back."

"And?"

"Well best as I can figure it's a shell. I mean all the right data is there, birthdate, school records, taxes, the works but I can't find a single person that's ever actually spoken to him earlier than three years ago. Before that his paperwork fits but he doesn't exist in the real world."

"Find out what he's hiding." Parker growled.

* * *

Jarod was discharged with orders to rest, a few stitches, a fresh clean bandage and a small prescription of painkillers.

"Can we stay at the B.A.U.?" Methos asked.

"Yeah I'll have to insist on it until Hotchner and the rest of the team get back. They're going to have a few questions for you. There's a shower you can use too." She teased gently.

Methos felt a strange sense of relief as the gates of Quantico loomed in front of their vehicle. He was exhausted and dying for a shower but he wanted those gates firmly closed behind them ASAP. Jarod had dozed off again. When they parked Methos went around to his side and carefully opened his door. The pretender was fast asleep. Methos gently woke him while Prentiss looked on.

"You okay for some stairs?"

"I won't break Methos." Jarod laughed and got out of the car.

Garcia was waiting for them upstairs.

"Oh my god you're okay!" She squeaked and impulsively hugged Methos. Methos blinked and awkwardly hugged her back.

"Garcia?" Jarod asked.

"Penelope unlock, he needs air." Prentiss said laughing.

"Oh. Right." Garcia said breaking the hug and blushing furiously.

"Penelope Garcia, meet –"

"Jarod." Garcia interrupted staring at the tall dark haired man.

"Hi." Jarod said with a grin.

"You're amazing and and I have a file for you." She said half stammered nervously and lead the group to her work station. She closed the door and sat down at the computer.

"It took some digging but I found them."

"You found my parents?" Jarod asked, his voice was full of hope.

"Sort of."

Jarod sat down next to Garcia staring at the screen in front of them.

"I backhacked the old records for NuGenesis and I found two names, Margaret and Charles."

"My parents."

"Right, that's the thing. According to what I could dig up –thanks to the backdoor Ben left – they came to the clinic because they were having trouble conceiving a child. Twice they came away with children, but only one was from a succesful conception, one was an arranged adoption."

"So, either I or Kyle was adopted."

"The records are too hacked and old to be clear on who is who, I'm so sorry Jarod." Garcia said sadly. Jarod smiled.

"I knew I could have been adopted Penelope, it doesn't matter, Margaret and Charles are my parents, they've been looking for me every day since I was stolen that makes them my parents."

"I felt the same way about my stepdad, I took his name." Garcia said with a shy smile.

Methos left Garcia and Jarod deep in conversation, he needed coffee. He felt shaky and needed the boost to stay on his feet. He'd been cleared by the E.R. but he needed sleep.

Prentiss approached for her own mug.

"Jarod?"

"I think he's discussing troll dolls with Garcia."

"Troll dolls?"

She shrugged.

"Right. What's the next step?"

"Well Garcia is going to keep digging for his parents and sister, Hotchner and the others are heading back now. Lyle wasn't there."

"Shocking." Methos grunted.

"Right, anyway we'll know where we stand when they get back."

"You have a spare couch I can sack out on?" Methos asked. Prentiss nodded.

"You trust me to keep an eye on Jarod?" She asked pointedly. Methos smiled.

"You picked up on that?"

"Profiler." Prentiss smirked.

"Right. He got shot because of I interfered and kept him in D.C. and he nearly died from that damn infection."

"You saved his life?"

Methos shrugged. What could he say? Saving Jarod's life was just one step toward saving his own soul?

"You know, I was chained to a steel table with a Bond villain about to dissect my magically disappearing gunshot wound when he popped up through a drain grate in the floor. Damndest thing. You said it yourself he's got more right than anyone to be an angry, bitter, miserable man. He could use his skills and intellect to rule Wall Street but instead he just wants to find his family and live his life. That's it. Not much to ask for."

"Unless an evil corporation with a shady agenda considers you stolen property." Prentiss sighed.

* * *

When Methos woke up he found Jarod locked in a discussion of pop culture oddities with Garcia. He wandered off to use the shower Prentiss had shown him and dress in a set of clothes Prentiss had filched from Morgan's locker. They were a little baggy but fit well enough.

"You know, according to reports, you tried to take that bullet for Jarod, got winged yourself in the process." Prentiss said startling Methos as he finished dressing.

"Oh? What reports?" He asked facing her.

"The Centre's." Prentiss smirked.

Methos simply stared at her.

"Why are you so protective of him?" Prentiss pressed.

"Because no one else ever has been Emily. His parents tried and he was taken, his tutor tried and failed, even Parker his pursuer tried in her own way. Maybe I can succeed, maybe I can help him and do one thing no one else has been able to do for him, keep him safe and find his family."

"But why you?" Prentiss insisted.

"Because, because I'm here, because I can, because I need to for my own reasons. Why the hell do you care?" Methos demanded.

"I like you Methos, I do, but there's something about you I can't pin down. It's dangerous and it's more than just being impossibly old or constantly running for your life, there's a dark edge to you."

Methos relaxed and shook his head.

"You're doing it. You want to vette me before I go back to him because you're worried about what I'll do to him or allow to happen. That's the kind of man he _is _Prentiss." Methos said gently.

"He's in the conference room, Rossi and Hotch will be in soon." Emily said quietly. She turned to leave and Methos caught her arm. She froze and looked up at him over her shoulder. He felt the things he wanted to say to her press against his lips but he didn't have the right words.

"Wrong time, wrong place." She said stiffly and Methos released her. He tired to ignore the dull ache in his chest.

* * *

"The news isn't good." Hotchner said entering the room. The tone triumphant mood of the room crumbled.

"The lawyers succeeded in stalling long enough for anything incriminating – including any record of Bobby Bowman – to disappear. " Rossi sighed.

"What about all the data Garcia collected?" JJ asked incredulous.

"Inadmissible, the Centre lawyers argued that it was received illegally and the judge threw it out. That said most of the files were fragmented and thus circumstantial. An intelligent person can look at what we have and realize what it means but it's not enough for court." Hotchner said in his usual calm tone. Methos thought he saw a flicker of frustration in the former prosecutor's eyes.

"So we have nothing?" Jarod asked.

"No, not nothing." Garcia said quietly. All eyes were on her. She cleared her throat.

"While we were talking I had some searches running. I managed to find the service record of a Major Charles married to a Margaret once stationed at Clearwater Air Station. I also found a record of a birth to Charles and Margaret at Lackland Air Base in San Antonio, a little boy named Kyle. The trail gets scattered shortly after Kyle's birth. Major Charles separated honorably and the family went suburbia big time, decent track house, cul de sac, the works. When Kyle was about two the family went off the grid." Garcia said breathlessly.

"You found them?"

"I don't have a current location but I have this." She said handing him a file.

"It's everything I have, from the stolen Centre files as well as my own searches, there are two email addresses in there anything that comes up from now on will be auto routed to them. So, in future if you are unable to call in for updates you can still get them."

Jarod got up and hugged her.

"Oh my." Garcia said choking up.

* * *

He and Methos were ready to leave a few hours later. The team had to go to Milwaukee for a case so the two men were tagging along to dodge the inevitable Centre tails.

"You can stay here." Prentiss said playfully. She'd caught Methos alone in the conference room.

"I suspect the director would object to two permanent house guests." Methos said with a small smile.

"I...you shouldn't have to run." Prentiss sighed finally.

"Right. And we should have had a rock solid case against the Centre for a hundred or so felonies." Methos said sadly.

She was at his side now, he was staring at a map of the U.S.,specifically Delaware.

"Blue Cove is really a very pretty town. I'm sure the locals are pleasant, the schools are good so on and so forth and yet so much evil lurks there too. You can never tell." Methos said bitterly.

"Arson in your future?" Prentiss asked.

"No, it's not my place, if he won't do it then how can I?"

"Methos, be careful don't…god don't do anything stupid okay?" She said with a nervous laugh turning to face him.

He smiled at her and raised a hand to her face, brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek. She pressed her face to his touch but kept her hands stiffly at her sides.

"I will." He whispered.

He slowly dropped his hand and took one of hers in his. She squeezed his hand.

"Work on your timing." She said. He laughed and shook his head.

"I…I loved a woman, I've loved many but none like her, none like…Alexa. She died, young and in pain, afraid. Cancer. I…I expect to lose people Emily but losing her, it tore a hole in me. Everyone dies young but …"

"It's okay I get it. Besides you're about to go on the run, _again_." She said wryly, her voice was tight and high, as though holding emotions in check, eyes suspiciously bright.

"Oh hell." Methos whispered and kissed her.

She melted against him, fitting his grip and body as though they were molded from the same material. She kissed him back, hungry and desperate. He pulled her closer, returned her kiss and then she sighed and pulled away.

"Now go play hero with Jarod, just…keep your head." Prentiss laughed hoarsely. A single tear fell and rolled down one cheek. Methos wiped it away with his thumb.

"If I could choose a life Emily, I'd choose a quiet one at your side."

"I know." She said softly. He let her go then and walked to the bullpen to meet Jarod. He didn't trust himself to stay. He'd made his choice in that hole in the Centre, his path was set.

Jarod glanced at Methos and Emily, just visible through the conference room windows. He sighed and gave Methos a hard look.

* * *

Methos spoke quietly with Hotchner and Jarod during the flight.

"Where will you go?" Hotchner asked.

"Garcia found indications of a project codenamed Gemini. I recently received a fragment of a security recording regarding Gemini and a sighting of my father in a research station in the north pole."

"A Centre funded research station?" Hotchner asked.

Jarod nodded.

"Should've packed a coat." Methos sighed. The immortal hadn't packed anything at all. Jarod's only luggage was a steel briefcase that Reid and Rossi had kindly picked up from its hiding space for him. It sat on his knees during the flight.

"I mean it boys, be careful, the world would be much more boring and hazardous without you." Emily joked. Garcia had said her goodbyes at the B.A.U. everyone on the plane knew that it was likely the last time the two men would see them. Jarod's life expectancy could be counted in goldfish years and Methos, well, he was a contradiction in terms, a hunted immortal with a price on his head simply because he was good at not getting killed.

"Be safe, you have our numbers." Hotchner said shaking Jarod's hand and then Methos'. He glanced at Emily and then joined the rest of the team.

* * *

Hours later Jarod finally asked Methos about Emily.

"It's complicated Jarod." Methos sighed.

Jarod snorted, he was thinking about a certain red headed profiler he'd once known. She'd been out of the VCTF rather than the BAU. Still.

"Believe me I _know _complicated." Jarod laughed.

A heavy silence filled the cab of the truck Jarod was driving. Methos sighed and caved.

"I loved a woman about…fifteen years ago." Had it been so long? Had he survived without Alexa _this_ long?

Jarod was quiet, but it was a waiting silence.

"Everyone dies young." Methos said and paused again.

Jarod changed lanes and increased his speed.

"She had inoperable cancer when we met. But, the heart wants what the heart wants. She tried to put me off at first. Wouldn't even date me, then she tried to scare me off with her diagnosis. We had less than a year together but I don't recall ever loving another person so much or so well. I took her to see the world. She died in Greece. When she died a piece of me died with her." Methos said finally. He had summarized their relationship, forced it into crude plain terms. How could he explain what they'd been together? He didn't have the words in any language.

"So, Emily isn't worth the risk?" Jarod asked.

"Jarod, you're living on borrowed time and any immortal with something to prove is going to try to kill me. What kind of life would that be for Prentiss?"

"So you're putting her off because of your lifestyle."

"Damnit Jarod, you have to know how impossible our lives are and we're living them. Listen, immortals who have families are vulnerable. Another immortal always finds them and hurts them or threatens to hurt them. I've … fuck, I've lost children and wives to those animals Jarod not to mention my new friends at the Centre, it's not fair to pull someone else into this."

"I get it Ben, but you don't have to marry her. Take what happiness you can when you can. She's got the kind of career that's going to make having a family and a husband hard anyway."

"So you think I should just be her guy on the side?"

"What's wrong with that?"

Methos was quiet.

"Y'know for a kid, you're pretty smart."

"Been hearin' it my whole life."


	10. Chapter 10

Prentiss stared at her empty email box. She was ready to go home, have a relaxing drink at the neighborhood bar and get a good night's sleep so she could run the rat race in the morning. It was almost seven but still she stared at her empty inbox. Two weeks ago she'd received a cryptic email from Methos. Half apology half overture. She hadn't replied. It had been almost three months since their hurried kiss.

"Prentiss, write him back." Morgan said holding his coat over his arm.

"Huh?" She said reflexively.

"Ben, just email him back."

"How'd …profilers." She sighed answering her own question.

Morgan grinned at her.

"Unless he proposed marriage it can't be that bad." He said gently.

"Ugh no it's worse, its feasible." She groaned and brought up the email.

_Prentiss, someone told me that life is meant to be lived. I can't offer you safety or constant companionship, neither a quiet nor a safe life is something I can ever have. But if you want it, if the reward is enough and the pain no great hurdle. I am here._

_M._

"So he's saying he'll be your occasional man-thing hook up with warm fuzzies?" Morgan asked.

"I guess. Wouldn't that be weird?"

"We don't live conventional lives Emily, who says our love lives have to be any more conventional?"

"Is that your excuse?" She teased.

"Hey now, be nice." Morgan laughed and slipped his coat on. Prentiss turned back to the email.

"Seriously Prentiss just write the man back." He said as he walked out of the bullpen.

She stared at the email.

* * *

"No reply?" Jarod asked. Methos sighed and shook his head. They were working as janitors at a swim club. A young man had drowned under suspicious circumstances two weeks before. Jarod was certain there was more to the case so Methos was doing what he'd said he would, mainly keeping the big Pretender safe and on track to find his family. The trip to the North Pole had been dramatic and educational but in the end they'd lost both Jarod's father and the young clone of Jarod. The clone thing was ... Methos tried not to think about it.

"No, pretty sure you'd know if there had been." Methos grunted picking up a full trash bag.

"Probably." Jarod said with a teasing glitter in his eyes.

"Okay your next Pretend I'm getting a different job, for one it's weird hiring two new guys at once and secondly I can't take you when you're like this. You're impossible." Methos snorted.

"Hey *my* pretend? The Centre wants you because you're a Pretender too." Jarod reminded him.

"Right because they would know their ass from a hole in the ground? They got the tests wrong Jarod, they had to."

"I doubt it, they're pretty particular when it comes to that sort of thing. Obsessed really." Jarod mused holding a larger bag open for Methos to empty his bag into.

"Still, second job. Maybe you can be the janitor and I can just follow people around."

"You might want to lose the English thing too. It's memorable."

"Right and a six foot three gangly do-gooder with your looks is just oh so forgettable."

"I'm just trying to help." Jarod teased.

"I think I scared her off Jarod." Methos said after a few minutes of companionable silence had passed.

"Did I ever tell you about Argyle and his father?"

"Is this a story about socks?" Methos asked suspiciously.

"Socks?" Jarod asked. Methos just laughed and shook his head.

"Okay I'm listening."

"Argyle was the original screw up, fast mouth, slow mind and lies lies lies but his heart was in the right place. Almost got me killed twice and tried to sell me to the Centre once." Jarod paused at Methos' expression. The immortal looked both horrified and livid.

"He didn't really know what he was doing; besides I got away. Anyway –"

Jarod went on at great length about Argyle and his father and how Argyle's mother had been enshrined as a saint in their hearts and lives forever. Methos tuned him out after a bit. Jarod was smart and almost empathic when it came to reading people but he didn't seem to register Methos' age. Methos had married nearly 78 women. Many of whom had children that he'd adopted and raised as his own. He knew families and he knew how love could impact a person. So he humored Jarod and half listened to his lecture on love.

"So basically, what you're saying is that I should give her a call, right?" Methos said finally.

Jarod shrugged and started hauling trash out to the dumpster.

* * *

_B. Call me when you're in the neighborhood._

Prentiss groaned and deleted the email.

"Oookay I know why I'm here all night six days a week what's your excuse?" Garcia said eyeballing Prentiss.

"I'm trying to reply to an email Methos Ben sent me, which I can only do from here and I don't have a clue what to say." Prentiss groaned.

"Well what's the original email say?" She asked. Prentiss opened it and let Garcia read it.

"Oh wow that is so…modern, and _hot_."

"Garcia!" Prentiss laughed.

"So what do you want to do?"

"I don't know, I guess I want to try it y'know? But-"

"Okay scooch over." Garcia said and leaned over to type on Prentiss' keyboard.

_M. Life is too short for wasted chances._

Garcie typed and hit send before Prentiss could object.

"Carpe noctum, or carpe really hot foreign rich immortal guy. Whatever" Garcia teased with a grin.

* * *

Methos was grateful when their shift ended. It wasn't that he didn't like manual labor he just didn't like garbage and body fluids.

"Have you found out anything at all about this dead guy?" Methos asked, he was standing next to the dumpster lighting a cigarette."

"You're going to smoke that?" Jarod asked wrinkling his nose.

"What? Like it's gonna kill me?"

"It'll kill me." Jarod snorted and stood upwind.

Methos took a long drag and sighed.

"Check your email." Jarod ordered.

"Why?"

"Because maybe she emailed you back."

Methos grunted and thumbed his smart phone on. He grinned like a schoolboy.

"Told you." Jarod grunted and knocked Methos' cigarette to the ground. The two headed to their shared vehicle. Methos held up a hand and both men froze.

He'd heard stealthy movement near one of the locked exit doors. He gestured for Jarod to hide and he crept forward, keeping to the shadows. He spotted one of the patrons of the club, a man in his twenties named Christopher. He was a shy man kept to himself and when addressed directly would reply in uncomfortable monosyllables. Methos watched while he unlocked the exit and slipped inside. Methos ghosted him while Jarod followed behind.

Christopher hurried to the locker room and slipped inside. Methos followed closely and hid behind a bank of lockers. Jarod joined him a few seconds later. Christopher was talking to someone.

"I didn't see anyone. Yeah the truck was there…I just said I didn't see anyone. I don't give a shit about some retarded janitor, if they're here we'll just pay 'em off. Yeah, no. Fifteen minutes? Shit okay I'll be here." The two men listened as Christopher hung up. They exchanged glances. Jarod slipped forward and glanced around the locker room then slipped back to Methos.

"He opened a locker and took out a duffel bag, it looked heavy." Jarod whispered.

"Hang back, I'm going to provoke him."

"Why? He could be dangerous-"

"And in a quarter hour he's going to have back up." Methos growled. Jarod thought about it.

"Fine but I'm sticking close."

Methos shrugged and turned to move in on Christopher. Jarod opened the locker room door and let it slam closed.

"Hey Christopher, what're you doing here?" Methos asked.

"Left my bag." Christopher said. His tone was shy and soft, his body language withdrawn and defensive. It was a great act.

"No problem, why don't you head out, I'll lock up behind you." Methos said cheerfully.

"Okay." Christopher said not making eye contact and slipped past Methos. Jarod was in the hallway with their cleaning cart.

"Hi Christopher. Little late for swimming isn't it?" Jarod's grin was cheerful but something about it was accusatory as well.

"L-left my bag Jarod." He said and slunk past the pretender. Methos emerged from the locker room and followed Jarod.

Christopher left via the same exit he'd entered. Jarod slipped out, Methos locked the door and then followed.

"Y'know Christopher, pretty sure I locked that door an hour ago." Jarod said. Christopher slowly turned around and glared at Jarod.

"And I picked it." Christopher sneered, he stood up straighter, set his shoulders back and glared at Jarod.

"Why? What's in that bag?" Methos asked stepping out of the shadows behind Christopher.

"I knew you two were up to something. Thick as thieves and always snooping." Christopher grumbled.

"Did you kill Sam Favreau?" Jarod growled.

"No I don't do the heavy lifting, I have people for that. Favreau made himself a problem, I ordered it solved."

Jarod tensed his rage clear to Methos.

"He was a father Christopher, you stole him from his children, they have to grow up without him now."

"I don't give a shit Jarod." Christopher sneered and pulled a hand gun out of his duffel bag. Methos moved immediately, he grabbed Jarod's collar and hauled him backwards while jumping forward. Christopher fired, emptying his weapon and both men hit the ground.

Christopher stared at them with a cold smile as a van pulled up and the side door slid open.

"Come on! Cops are gonna come!" Someone inside snapped.

"Don't worry no one's going to find these two till tomorrow morning. " Christopher said walking to the van.

"Jesus why'd you shoot them?" The other voice asked.

"'Cause they linked me to you, said I killed you." Christopher laughed and got in the van. A man in his mid-twenties leaned out of the van and glanced up the alley toward the parking lot. He was blond, average looking, a largish nose and a cleft chin kept him from being handsome. He leaned back and the door closed as the van pulled away in a squeal of tires.

The alley was silent. The soft drip of a leaking drain pipe, the far off solemn wail of a siren, a train whistle two towns over mournful and alone in the night drifted through the wet night air. A rat scurried out from behind the dumpster and sniffed at Methos' outstretched hand. His fingers twitched and it squealed and scurried off. A gasping shudder wracked the immortal. He rolled onto his side coughing and groaning.

"Jarod?" He croaked. There was no reply. He rolled onto his other side, toward Jarod and grabbed the big man's arm. He felt for the pulse.

"Jarod?"


	11. Chapter 11

_Four Months Later_

Miss Parker sipped her wine and studied the picture of Tommy. He'd been handsome, short brown hair, an easy warm grin and he'd loved her. She sighed and got up from her couch. She walked to her front door and looked through the peephole. It was late and she couldn't see much with only starlight to go by. She sighed again and slipped the deadbolt.

"Another day, another chase." She muttered and walked to bed.

Methos walked into the living room from the kitchen and smiled coldly after the shapely brunette. He glanced at the photo she'd been engrossed in. The man looked kind, he didn't need to ask to know he was dead. He knew the stranger was a corpse by the way Parker had pined for him, the grief in her sighs. He ghosted after her, silent on the hard wood floor. He stood just out of sight in her doorway, watching her enter her restroom, listening to running water, an electric toothbrush and the soft sounds of a robe being slipped on. He was utterly still as she re-entered her room and sat on her bed. He watched her set her alarm and slip into bed.

"So you're human after all." He said softly. Immediately she was on her feet and reaching for her bedside phone, in her spare hand was an automatic handgun.

"Awkward, what with me having cut the phone line and all." His tone was ice.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" She snarled.

"Talking. Not that I want to. _ I _want to cut your throat and leave your corpse on your father's desk. I want to burn the Centre down, I want to take your family and Raines and stake you out in the sun. That, is what _I_ want Miss Parker. But I won't do that, can't really, because he wouldn't want me to."

She licked her lips. "Jarod." She said tightly.

"Jarod." He agreed.

"If you aren't going to shoot me, why are you here? He wouldn't send you here, not like this, that's not his style." She said bitterly.

"To let you know that things have changed. If you come after us again, I won't hesitate. You don't know anything about me or what I can do Miss Parker. Now you have some idea. Stop hunting Jarod." He said quietly.

"You think you can walk out of here?" She asked she was over enunciating her words, too angry or too upset to speak properly without the extra effort, too much a Parker to lose control. He watched her thumb the safety off on her weapon and swallow hard.

"Shoot me." He challenged. She did. She shot him in the chest, right in the solar plexus, the hydrostatic shock ruptured a lung as the bullet impacted his heart, his shattered heart bled out and he dropped to the ground, dead.

Parker let out a shuddering gasp and lowered her weapon. She could see Methos' blood in the dim light from the stars filtering into her room. She closed her eyes. She'd been a cleaner for the Centre, she could do this. He'd broken into her home. She opened her eyes, set her jaw.

Parker carefully stepped over Methos to get to the living room where she'd left her cell phone charging. She picked it up and thought about how to handle it. Raines would probably like to dissect him, if he was a Pretender…but it might be easier to call the Blue Cove P.D. and tell them he was an intruder. She heard a gasp and twisted to face it.

He was standing in her bedroom doorway, no he was leaning against the doorjamb, hunched over.

"What the fuck." She breathed.

"You've been warned Miss Parker." Methos hissed.

"Who are you?" She demanded raising her weapon again.

"I'm his friend." He said earnestly. She leaned over and flipped on the lightswitch. Blood was everywhere. A puddle had soaked into the wood floor of her bedroom and been smeared on the floor of the main room. His shirt hung heavy with it, one hand pressed to his chest, the other gripping the doorjamb leaving a smeared hand print.

"The average adult human has ten pints of blood Miss Parker. You're going to have a long night." He said and coughed. He winced and straightened.

"What the hell are you?" She asked, he thought he heard a slight quaver in her voice.

He was still leaning against the door jamb, he stood slowly and stepped away from it. She backed up but kept the weapon trained on him.

"Miss Parker, your life is a web of lies, carefully constructed falsehoods designed to keep you in line, keep you toeing the family line, keep the Centre on an even keel. Ask yourself this Miss Parker, it's been what, almost three years of chasing Jarod? How much money has the Centre wasted? Millions? Why go to all that trouble for Jarod? Surely the Centre can make or steal another child with the same potential as Jarod? They've done it before haven't they? Kyle, Angelo, surely there are more. So why is Jarod so important?" He asked slowly walking toward her.

Parker didn't speak. He stepped forward and reached for her weapon took it from her nerveless fingers as her eyes traced his blood soaked shirt.

"He's always wanted the best for you." Methos whispered. Parker's eyes wavered and then met his. He handed her the weapon back and walked past her, paused to undo the deadbolt and left.

* * *

Sydney was staring sightlessly at an old file when the phone rang. Ostensibly he was reviewing some of the early studies he and his brother had conducted decades before on the psychology of twins. In reality he was brooding, the phone was a welcome break. He hoped it was Jarod as he'd grown to hope every call in the last few months was.

"Sydney."

The Belgian didn't recognize the voice.

"Who is this?"

"You know me as Ben."

"Is Jarod alright?"

Silence, the soft sound of breathing.

"Are you familiar with Yeats?"

"Passingly."

"Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned." There was a click then and a dial tone.

Sydney frowned at the receiver and put it down. He got up and riffled through his bookcase and pulled a dark blue cloth bound book free and began flipping through it. He paused, straightened and read aloud; "Turning and turning in the widening gyre the falcon cannot hear the falconer; things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned." He trailed off toward the end.

"Jarod… what has happened to you?" He whispered looking back at the phone.

* * *

Broots was cheerfully slaughtering zombies with his daughter Debbie. She was a little young for the violent videogame but they both enjoyed it. His phone rang and Debbie groaned.

"Hey you keep us safe from the hordes for a minute okay?" He said and got up to answer it.

"Mr. Broots." It wasn't a question, the voice was accented, unfamiliar.

"Who is this?"

"You love your daughter." Again, not a question.

"Who the hell are you?" Broots demanded. The tech expert would kill and die for his child.

"Do you think Jarod's parents felt like you do? _Feel _like you do?"

"Who are you? How did you get this number?"

"The Centre cannot hold Mr. Broots." The caller hung up.

"Who is it Daddy?" Debbie called.

"Uh, wrong number sweetie, I've gotta make a call, why don't you make some popcorn and pick out a movie for us, okay?" Broots called back. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

"This is Broots I need a trace on my home line, something's up." He said quietly. He walked to the kitchen and helped Debbie make popcorn. His cell rang as they were removing the piping hot bag.

"Broots."

"Jarod's friend came to my place tonight." Miss Parker said, she sounded off...distant.

"Jarod's friend?" Broots asked confused.

"Ben, the Brit."

"Oh..oh god I think he called here, I requested a trace."

"Call Sydney, see if Jarod's little psychotic pet made contact."

"Right away Miss Parker." He hit Sydney's number and waited.

"Broots, I assume Ben has contacted Miss Parker?" Sydney said by way of greeting.

"Yeah, and me."

"We should talk."

* * *

"I shot him. In the heart and he got up." Miss Parker said crisply.

"That's impossible Miss Parker, surely you must have simply wounded him." Sydney scoffed.

"Look at the blood Sydney, tell me anyone could survive that amount of blood loss?"

Sydney didn't reply, simply stared at the congealed and drying blood. The stink of it was thick in the room.

"He asked me if I thought Jarod's parents had loved him like I love my Debbie." Broots said.

"Yes, and he taunted me with a poem by William Butler Yeats."

"Taunted you?" Miss Parker growled.

Sydney reached into his suit coat and pulled out a folded page of paper, the poem. He handed it to Parker and she began to read it out loud.

"Turning and turning in the widening gyre the falcon cannot hear the falconer; things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned; the best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity…" She trailed off.

"The Centre cannot hold?" She asked looking at Sydney.

"Yes, that struck me as well. He only quoted the portion pertaining to the ceremony of innocence."

"He didn't sound right Miss Parker, I mean, I know he's Jarod's friend so he's gotta be a little crazy to get involved in all this but-"

"I am afraid that something terrible has happened." Sydney said cupping his opposite elbow in one hand and pacing.

"Ben has certainly cracked." Parker agreed.

"Why? And why is he alone?"

"You said that he refused to hurt you because Jarod wouldn't like it?" Sydney asked Parker.

"He was babbling." Parker said pacing.

"Miss Parker –"

"Broots, how much has the Centre spent chasing Jarod?"

"Uhh I dunno, millions probably."

"Syd, is he worth that much?"

"Apparently."

"Ben said the Centre wanted Jarod for something, not because he's a Pretender."

"Jarod is an extraordinary man –"

"But he's not the only Pretender, Kyle, even Angelo were –"

"Similar, yes, but Jarod-"

"Is special. I know. How special Sydney? How could one man be worth all of this? We already know he won't perform any more simulations, brain washing and torture won't force him into it so why are we _still _chasing him?" Parker asked.

* * *

Methos watched the Centre, watched the gates, the mindless drones moving in and out, the occasional high ranking official with a cadre of sweepers, the endless cycle of indifferent evil.

He was sitting on a hillside, his back to an old deciduous tree, the broad flat leaves rustling in the chill wind from the bay. He was pale, hadn't slept in so long he couldn't recall. A revolver sat in the neatly mown grass at his side.

His cellphone rang. He waited until it stopped and then pulled it out of his jacket. He was wearing jump boots, dark jeans, a long sleeved dark t shirt with a hooded sweatshirt and a leather jacket. The phone caught on the edge of the pocket for a moment and then it was free.

The display read, _Macleod_.

Methos sighed and thumbed over to his voice mail, he selected the latest and sent it to speaker.

"Adam, call us, we're worried. Prentiss has been in touch. She said you left her a strange message, she's worried about you. Look, if you need space or time that's fine, just let us know you're alive."

Methos closed his eyes, leaned his head against the trunk of the tree and winced slightly. He stayed that way for several minutes and then opened his eyes. He thumbed to his contacts and hit one.

"Mac."

"Methos? Christ where have you been?"

"Stop calling me."

"Look, Emily –"

"Is better off without me right now."

Long pause, he imagined the Scot was thinking of Tessa, Ann, and the countless other women he'd loved and had to leave or watch die because they weren't immortal.

"Doesn't she get a say?"

"Macleod, please, just go on with your life, say what you have to…I have to take care of things. I'll call you when it's over." He turned the phone off.

* * *

"Why are we still chasing Jarod?" Parker asked.

"Mostly because you haven't caught him yet." Lyle sneered. Their father sighed.

"Angel, you know –"

"Daddy, tell me what is going on, please." She insisted. Her father rose from his desk and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Angel, You keep after him, you'll capture him, I have faith. Now, if you'll excuse me I have some business with your brother." Mr. Parker said and kissed his daughter's forehead.

"Daddy, what about Ben?"

"Find him, capture him. If he's gone off the deep end we'll take care of him. But get Jarod Angel, he's all that matters."

"What if he's dead?"

"Then get proof." Parker growled all pretense of affection or negotiation abolished.

Miss Parker left, ignoring her sneering twin.

* * *

Methos was cold. He felt the cold chewing on his flesh like an echo of a memory, the knowledge that he was cold rattled through his nervous system and was filed next to his insomniac exhaustion and neglected hunger. He licked cracked lips and leaned forward, he picked up his phone and turned it on. He made a soft unconscious noise. Prentiss' name filled the display. He put the voicemail through the speakers.

"Garcia knows. She found an article, two newly hired janitors shot and left for dead just weeks after the suspicious drowning of a young father, it's his M.O, yours too. You need help, please, let me help you."

He stared at the phone. He hadn't wanted to make that call. But the time had come. He dialed her number, somewhere, some part of him hoped she wouldn't answer.

"Methos?"

He couldn't think, there weren't words, not for what he needed her to know, to understand.

"Methos, I know this is your phone, talk to me, please."

"It's my fault Prentiss, and I have to set it right. I have to…

"What happened Ben? Where's Jarod?"

"I was there, I…I was supposed to keep it from happening. I owed him that much but … I was too slow Emily."

"It's okay just tell me what happened."

"No, it's better if you don't know."

"Methos, stop, listen, it doesn't work like that. You're linked to us, the Centre has been under surveillance we've managed to infiltrate an undercover agent there are steps we can take."

"Prentiss, these people, the ringleaders, they're professional liars, even their own children don't know up from down, right from wrong. Your agent will be found out and isolated or taken out in a convenient accident. They're a hive of sociopaths sitting on something terrible. I…god, Prentiss, I wish I could just go to D.C. and …and this would all be over but…it's not going to work like that."

"Damnit, why not? Why not Methos?" Her voice was tight, with anger or unshed tears he couldn't tell.

"I'm so sorry Emily, you deserved better than this." He hung up

* * *

Prentiss stood behind Garcia, unshed tears bright in her eyes. Hotchner stood at her elbow, solid, comforting. Garcia hit a few more keys and waited for her terminal to respond. She was unusually quiet.

"Got it, Blue Cove, oh, uhm, he's about four hundred yards away from the Centre."

"Hotch?" Morgan asked poking his head in. The lead agent nodded at Morgan.

"We've got a chopper on standby, we can be in Blue Cove in-"

"I don't think that will be necessary."

"Hotch, we all agreed, he's devolving he –"

"Thank you Morgan." Hotchner said again, quietly.

"I'll keep the chopper on alert." Morgan said and stepped out. Garcia put her headset down and walked to Emily. The tall brunette was holding herself, her cell phone still clenched in her hand. Garcia hugged her and Prentiss let out a sob.

* * *

Methos kept watching the Centre. He had to make a decision. He wanted to bar the doors and burn it to the ground, listen to the monsters scream as they died in agony. But what about Angelo? What about the clueless security guards, the paper pushers, or other experiments, possibly children like Jarod and Kyle?

He let out a frustrated growl. Jarod wouldn't want him to be here, Jarod would want him to go to D.C. to find Prentiss and be happy. But how could he do that? Walk away from this festering wound, this canker of evil? Just walk away and spend what, ten years or so with Prentiss? Be happy for a decade while these heinous people continued their work? He couldn't stay with Emily, not for long she would realize what being with him really meant, as his flesh stayed ageless and hers wrinkled, softened, and aged.

He could almost hear Jarod, standing at his shoulder, calling him a fool, a selfish and shortsighted fool for denying himself happiness, but cruel also for doing it to Prentiss as well.

He let out a miserable cry and picked up the gun, leaving the phone still turned off in the dew damp grass. He rose and strode toward the Centre. He would kill Lyle and Parker, their hands were red, Lyle was a sociopathic serial killer, but before he killed Parker he would know, he would find out why the man had seen fit to harass and torture one of the few truly good men the agonized immortal had known.

_Someone _had to pay.

* * *

"Garcia." Hotchner said gently as she comforted Prentiss.

"Garcia." He repeated a little more forcefully. Prentiss straightened and controlled herself.

"Find Jarod, if we can find him then maybe we can stop Methos."

"Right, I've done searches for John Doe hospital admissions and private admissions but it's slow going."

"We need your magic." Hotchner said gently.

* * *

He didn't bother to sneak into the Centre. He walked up to the gate guards and pointed his weapon at them.

"I'd like to speak to Mr. Lyle." He snarled.

* * *

"Okay, got him, he's in a private hospital in Viriginia, well him or someone suspiciously similar. I did a run down on admissions and then narrowed them by age. That left three so I faxed over some security footage frame captures of Jarod and we have a hit."

"What is his condition?"

"Okay, this is where it gets weird. He recovered from the gunshot wound like, ridiculously well. But he's catatonic."

"What?"

"The head physician says it's due to some kind of combination of a physiological and psychological shock."

"Morgan is that chopper still available?"

"Yeah Hotch."

"I want you and Reid to go to the hospital with Prentiss, the rest of us are going to Delaware, Garcia good work."

* * *

"My men tell me your name is Ben, but what's interesting is that you don't exist." Lyle said as Methos was lead into the elder Parker's office. Miss Parker and her father were waiting. Broots and Sydney were lurking in a corner, doing their best impressions of the invisible man.

"Some of us are better at hiding than others Mr. Bowman." Methos snapped.

"Don't goad him son, the man is clearly unstable." Mr. Parker said.

The guards had taken Methos' weapon, or rather he'd given it to them. Lyle and the others still retained theirs.

"Unstable? Maybe. But the question, Mr. Parker, should be, is there method to his madness?" Methos said with quiet savagery.

* * *

The hospital was abuzz with excitement as the agents arrived.

"We need to have access to a patient." Prentiss said crisply.

The duty nurse stared at the three agents.

"Ma'am, it's important." Morgan said.

"Please, a life may depend on it." Reid added, the nurse relented.

"Who do you need to see?"

"Jarod Adamson." Prentiss said stiffly.

"Adamson?" Reid said, tasting the word.

"Adam's son." Morgan said as they followed the nurse. The agents knew that Methos preferred variations on the names Adam, Ben, and Pierce. No one needed to voice the symbolism of christening Jarod Adam's son.

Jarod was sitting in a wheelchair facing a large window. His face held the strange still lines of a sleeping child, save he was clearly a man and his eyes were wide open.

"How long has he been like this?" Reid asked the nurse.

"Almost three months."

Reid and Morgan spoke with the nurse while Prentiss walked forward. She crouched at the Pretender's side and looked up into his eyes.

The big man's soft brown eyes stared vacantly out at the night blackened hospital grounds.

"Jarod? It's Emily Prentiss. We met in D.C., I…" She swallowed hard.

"Methos needs your help Jarod. He's going to do something stupid. I'm afraid, we're afraid, he could get hurt or hurt other people without meaning to." She said reaching up and taking Jarod's hand. It was warm and dry to her touch. She rose and moved to face him directly.

* * *

"Take him downstairs Lyle. Jarod's old cell." Parker growled.

Lyle smirked and moved forward. Methos moved with all the speed and strength he possessed, he slipped around Lyle, kicked him savagely in the rear of his left knee bringing him down while wrapping a strong wiry arm around his throat and hauling him upward half throttling him, while the sociopath struggled Methos' free hand dipped into Lyle's jacket and fished out his weapon. Methos trained it on Mr. Parker directly.

"Method to the madness, Mr. Parker." Methos hissed chest heaving.

"Shoot him and I blow your head off." Miss Parker snapped out crisply. She was standing behind Methos in a perfect shooter's stance, a bead on Methos' head.

* * *

"Prentiss, he's been entirely non-responsive since he came here." Reid said gently.

Morgan had left in search of the floor doctor.

"Is this where he was treated for the gunshot wound?" She asked. She was sitting on a chair in front of Jarod. She reached forward and brushed a strand of hair out of his face. His hair had grown longer than she recalled, it was unruly and slightly curly.

"No, he was transferred here." Reid said flipping through Jarod's file.

* * *

"Miss Parker. For once, listen to your heart, listen to the little girl that was Jarod's friend, listen to your mother. Lyle is a sociopathic serial killer, he brutally tortures and murders young women and then eats their organs. His relation to you is a collision of genetics, you owe him no fealty." Methos said coldly. Lyle groaned and tensed against Methos.

"Be still Lyle or I'll snap your neck." Methos said evenly while increasing the pressure on the one-thumbed man's throat.

"Angel, shoot him, Raines can pick through the pieces."

"Miss Parker, if your finger so much as twitches I'll kill Mr. Parker." Methos said evenly.

"I won't let you kill my father." She said steadily.

"Hey-!" Lyle started to protest but Methos choked him into silence.

"I never said he was your father." Methos said with a cold smile.


	12. Chapter 12

Endings are funny things. Often they're only clear when looked back on. Time and distance offer a sense of perspective and timing often lacking in the pondered this while Methos throttled him. The immortal's grip was implacable, Lyle shifted and wriggled until he could breathe without wheezing. If only, Lyle thought, I'd shot him back in D.C. at the bank.

"Why are you doing this?" Lyle gurgled.

"Because I'm tired Mr. Lyle." Methos snapped.

"Yeah, you seem pretty sleepy." Lyle croaked as Methos increased the pressure on his wind pipe. The one-thumbed killer had a strange way of speaking, as though he forced every syllable from the front of his mouth, through his pristine teeth.

"Tell me Bobby, did you ever have your jaw wired shut as a boy? Maybe Daddy Bowman wanted to shut you up?" Methos growled.

Lyle paled and then lunged against Methos' grip.

"Shhh, shhhh Lyle calm down, you think you're the first little boy to suffer? The first one to decide cruelty and violence were the best option? You're nothing special Lyle, you're just another selfish monster in the dark."

"Angel, shoot him." Parker growled.

"I don't think you want to do that Miss Parker, You're an excellent shot but I'm better, even with your dear baby brother struggling I can still hit your father, probably kill him outright."

Parker licked her lips.

"Ben, is this really necessary? Surely we can compromise-" Sydney tried to reason.

"I'll let you go, even surrender to you and your Mr. Raines if you can insure one thing Sydney." Methos hissed.

"What would that be Ben?"

"That this place will leave Jarod alone."

"We can't do that." Parker rumbled.

"I know." Methos said and squeezed the trigger.

* * *

"Prentiss, he won't –"

"I have to try Reid, if Jarod wakes up then maybe Methos won't –"

"He already has. Hotch just called, the undercover agent checked in to report a disturbance, an armed gunman presented himself at the gate and asked for Lyle." Morgan said grimly.

"Oh Methos." Prentiss whispered picking up Jarod's warm lifeless hand.

* * *

Mr. Parker shouted and clutched at his shoulder before staggering backwards. Miss Parker let out a cry and shot Methos. Her bullet nicked Lyle's neck and hit Methos in the throat just above his collar bone. The immortal gurgled, staggered and fell backwards, releasing Lyle.

Lyle hit the ground on his hands and knees and scuttled toward his sister. Sydney was crouching beside Mr. Parker. Parker had staggered backwards, tripped and fallen headlong backwards.

"He'll be fine Miss Parker, it is only a flesh wound."

"He won't." Broots said quietly, he was staring wide-eyed at Methos.

Methos was lying on his back, one hand still clutching at the hole in his throat, his eyes wide and Christmas green, offset by the blood smearing his face. His other hand lay at his side, gun still clutched tightly.

"Don't count on it." Parker murmured not taking her eyes off of Methos. She carefully walked forward her heels sounding loud and invasive on the hard tile of the floor.

"Angel-" Parker tried to speak.

"It's okay Daddy." Parker said firmly. Lyle got to his feet and crept behind Parker, keeping her between himself and the dead intruder.

"He lost it." Lyle snorted.

Parker kicked Methos' stolen weapon aside and gestured for Lyle to retrieve it. Her brother bent and picked it up while pressing his other hand to his wound. It wasn't deep but it was bleeding freely.

"Parker, just let the sweepers take care of the body." Lyle grunted.

"I think we'll want to hang on to him." Parker said coldly. As they watched the mangled flesh of the stranger's throat began to knit together, the edges melting and combining as a pale bluish light flickered over it. Lyle hissed something in a language Parker didn't know and stepped back. The others in the room were transfixed. Miss Parker maintained her stance, weapon ready.

A ragged gasp broke the silence and Methos' eyes fluttered, closed and opened as his chest rose in a deep gasping breath. His hands twitched and he rolled onto his side coughing.

"What the hell?" Mr. Parker demanded.

"Jarod's not the only freak out there Daddy." Parker said. Methos tucked his knees up to his chest and rolled onto all fours. His head hung for a moment as he continued to cough and catch his breath. He looked up then, at Parker and her gun, he smiled, teeth pink with blood, chin smeared with it.

"Get up." Parker ordered. Methos laughed and shook his head, he sat back on his heels and glared up at her.

"Make me." He smiled.

"Lyle." Parker ordered.

Lyle happily walked forward and hauled Methos to his feet.

"What are you?" Lyle demanded.

"You'll never know." Methos grinned and slugged Lyle in the face. The killer took the blow and struck back, as the two men fought Parker tried to get a clear shot at Methos.

"Lyle, get down!" She ordered. Her brother didn't listen. His nose was bleeding and one lip was split. There was so much blood from Ben's fatal wound that Parker wasn't sure how badly hurt Lyle might be. The men continued to grapple.

"This is ridiculous." Parker muttered and shot at Methos' knee. The shot went wide, missing both men, barely.

They froze.

"Lyle stop screwing around and cuff him." Parker snapped. Lyle reached into his jacket and fished out a set of handcuffs. Methos allowed the serial killer to cuff his hands behind his back.

"Why are you really here?" Parker asked. Methos stared at her, green eyes gone dull and brownish, like an apple left in the sun. He didn't speak.

"Take him to Jarod's cell." Parker ordered.

The cell had been designed by Lyle as part of the killer's scheme to break Jarod. It was impossible to escape from. The Pretender had been caged and tortured for months and never managed to slip away. Parker was confident this strange creature wouldn't be able to either.

"Your mother would be so proud." Methos sneered at Parker. She pistol whipped him in reply.

The cell was tiny, deliberately badly lit and cold. It was more of a cage than a room. Methos lay on a concrete floor, smooth and cold, it sloped toward the center of the floor, a drain sat there. It was ominous in its simplicity, no doubt an intentional warning.

Methos laughed. He had tortured and been tortured by savants.

"You'll need to try harder Mr. Lyle." He said softly.

He sat up and found he was wearing nothing but a loose fitting pair of hospital style pants, held up by a drawstring. Barefoot feet slapping on cold concrete as he examined the walls of his cage. There was no furniture, not even a bucket for waste. Methos shook his head.

"Start slow and build." He said thinly.

* * *

"Mr. Raines isn't to know about his unique attributes." Parker growled at Lyle.

"Why not? He is our medical-"

"Because I said so Lyle. Trust me on this."

"What about the blood samples?"

"Let him have those, he can even draw blood but I want his access limited, under no circumstances is he to find out. I'll hold you directly responsible if he does."

"Yes sir. Aside from Mr. Raines, are any other persons to be allowed access?"

"No. "

Lyle smiled.

* * *

Methos wouldn't scream. It wasn't that he was stubborn, that he wanted to deny Lyle the sexual satisfaction of his pain, he just couldn't be bothered. Decades of abuse from Kronos and others had hardened Methos, years of study and discipline had taught him how to block outside stimulus, control his body's reactions to pain, cold, heat, lust. Lyle enjoyed Methos' resistance, enjoyed burning, cutting, crushing, twisting, bruising, and tearing the strange man's flesh. Reached new depths of creativity, and then, even his patience began to fray.

"You won't scream for me." Lyle said, it wasn't a question.

Methos hung from his wrists, toes inches above the drain in the floor of his cage. His head hung limp, hair wet with sweat, skin shining in the fluorescent lights. Lyle used a riding crop to lift Methos' dangling head, making the immortal meet his eyes.

"You don't exist to me." Methos whispered. Lyle smiled but it was mirthless. He dropped Methos' head.

"Lyle." Methos whispered struggling to raise his head.

"Don't take this out on an innocent girl." Methos whispered, voice cracking.

"What are you?" Lyle asked. He'd asked it hundreds of times since stringing Methos up.

"I'll never tell." Methos sing-songed and laughed.

"I'll be back soon, in the meantime, why don't you hang around, get a feel for the place?" Lyle snapped.

Methos tried to laugh at Lyle with his best mocking chortle, but his lungs were constricted by his dangling weight and he only managed the same hissing chuckle as before. A tear slid down his cheek, coursed the plane of his cheek, briefly detoured to the corner of his mouth and then clung to his chin. It fell, finally, inevitably and hit the floor with an almost inaudible impact.

* * *

"I want access Syd." Parker sighed.

"If it is any comfort Mr. Raines also does not have access Miss Parker." Sydney replied, he was thumbing through a file while Parker paced in front of his desk.

"I know. Broots told me."

"Why is this so important?" Sydney asked setting the file aside.

"Because it was deliberate Syd, why did he choose to become Lyle's play thing?" She asked rhetorically.

Sydney sighed.

"Obviously his mental health has been compromised –"

"It's more than that Syd, why the poem? Why contact each of us before he came in? He put us on alert, he warned us, why?"

"Perhaps you should ask him."

"I don't have access Syd."

"And that has stopped you before?"

* * *

"He won't break."

"Neither would Jarod." Parker grunted.

"I've tried everything, invented new things and he won't even scream." Lyle growled.

"Then stop torturing him."

"What?"

"Just leave him alone. We're social animals Lyle. Use that." Parker grunted and waved a dismissive hand at Lyle.

* * *

Parker stared at him. He was white under the lights, muscles stretched by gravity, skin tight with dehydration, wiry muscles rippling as he pulled himself up high enough to draw a decent breath. His hair was in disarray, body pristine in spite of the blood dried and caked around the edges and lips of the drain in the floor. The only indication of injury were old scars that rippled along his right arm, ending abruptly at the shoulder. She wondered what had caused them, and how.

His heaving breathing could be heard from the doorway. She fingered the key in her pocket. She had twenty minutes before the sweeper team assigned to his security came through for another sweep. Parker took a deep breath and walked toward him.

He didn't react as she opened the cage door and let herself in. She studied how Lyle had hung him. A cable ran from the center of the cage to one wall where it was secured. She released the lock holding it in place and watched as Methos dropped to the floor.

"Your brother will be upset." He whispered, voice muffled by the floor. Parker used her foot to roll Methos onto his back.

He looked skeletal. Methos had been at Lyle's mercy for almost six weeks. Evidently her brother had decided not to feed him.

"Why did you come here?" She asked.

"Someone had to pay." He muttered. She frowned, then knelt and felt his skin. It was hot.

"Great, captain delirium. Listen, I can get you out of here but I need to know what you know." She insisted.

"Had to pay." Methos said closing his eyes and swallowing laboriously.

Parker sighed and stood.

"Parker." Methos whispered. She knelt again.

"Gemini…important…" he murmured.

"What is Gemini?" She asked quietly, but he was out. She clenched her jaw in frustration and stood up.

"Now, I'm pretty sure I made it clear that this prisoner was off limits." Lyle crooned from the doorway. She closed her eyes for a moment then pasted a smirk on her face and faced him.

"Y'know he was right, you talk funny."

"And he doesn't talk at all." Lyles smiled.

"Don't worry Sis, I'll get him to talk."

For once Parker wasn't ready with a snarling retort. She was shaking by the time she got back to the upper levels and her office. She went straight to her desk and her back up pack of cigarettes. They'd been sitting there for the months since she'd quit, now, they were stale and foul but she smoked two down to the filter before she felt calm enough to call Broots.

* * *

Methos didn't dream, he slept, oblivious wrapped in the cold fingers of a raging fever. He swam up from its abyss once and saw a sun bright light hovering over his face, felt rough cloth under his hands and the fever had him again. He floated through blackness and time lost all meaning.

* * *

"How can he be sick?" Parker asked.

"How can he recover from a fatal wound?" Sydney replied.

"Syd, I don't need more questions or you being Zen, I need –"

"A vacation." Her father said. He was standing in Sydney's doorway.

"Daddy I'm fine –"

"Angel, you haven't had a real vacation in years. You've been chasing Jarod for the last three and a half years. Take a vacation. That's an order, I'll book it for you." Parker growled sternly and left.

"Enjoy yourself Parker, try to relax." Sydney smiled.

"Fuck you Syd."

* * *

"Hey Prentiss, you got a package." Morgan said as Emily entered the bullpen. She grunted and set her coffee down. There was no return address.

"Hey, did security take a look at this? There's no return address." She called to Morgan.

Rossi poked his head out of his office door, above the bullpen.

"Double check before you open it." Rossi called.

"Right, double checking." Prentiss muttered and picked up her receiver.

"Yeah this is Agent Prentiss in the BAU, I have a package with no return on my desk I want to verify that security has been over it."

She waited while the security records were checked.

"Okay thank you."

"All good?" Morgan asked approaching her desk.

"Yeah it's fine." She said waving a dismissive hand. Morgan held up his hands in mock surrender and picked up a file before returning to his desk.

She opened the package carefully. Inside the brown wrapping was a small white box. She cut the thin clear piece of tape holding the lid down and lifted the lid off. Inside was an exquisite crystal rose. She carefully picked it up and set it on her desk.

"Ooooh shiny." Garcia said walking past with an enormous coffee. She paused and studied the rose.

"There's a card." Prentiss muttered.

"What's it say?" Garcia asked sipping her coffee.

"Thank you, it just says thank you." She frowned and flipped the card over but it was blank.

"Prentiss." Garcia said, she was pointing at the rose.

Prentiss leaned forward and scooped it up. There were two leaves on the rose, one was normal, the other curled back against the stem forming an unmistakable J. Prentiss snatched up her receiver and called the hospital Jarod had been admitted to.

"Yes, I need the status of a long term care patient, Jarod Adamson, that's Jarod with an O and Adamson with an O, yes I'll wait."

She bit her lip while she waited in the purgatory of hold.

"Yes, yes I'm still here. You're sure? What was his condition? Right, do you know- no, I understand that, can you fax me his file? I'm a federal agent ma'am, yes I'm a friend of his as well. My name is Emily Prentiss. He did? Look send me all of his documentation, yes, I understand that but it's for his own good ma'am, trust me, yes, I'll give you the address you can charge it to me. Okay."

She gave the woman the BAU address and hung up.

"It was Jarod right?" Garcia said.

"Yeah, he woke up a month ago. He flew through minimal physical therapy and checked himself out yesterday."

"Does he know that Ben walked into the Centre and off our radar?"

"I don't know, is Hotch in?"

"I'm not sure he even left." Garcia snorted.

* * *

Methos was singing softly. Lyle didn't recognize the song or language. He had been singing it for days on end. Lyle sighed, leaned forward and turned off the DSA reader.

"What do the analysts have for us?" Lyle asked turning to his favored sweeper, Willy.

"Not much sir, it's some flavor of Latin but they haven't been able to trace it clearly, apparently it's a dead branch."

"Do they know what the song is about?"

"Their best translation says it's about a man that falls in love with a whore and is murdered for his gold by her lover."

"Great. He's finally cracked for good." Lyle growled.

Someone knocked on Lyle's door. He nodded at Willy. The scarred sweeper opened it.

"Package for Mr. Lyle." A female voice said and handed Willy a brown package, her pale skin was jarring against Willy's darker tone.

"For you Mr. Lyle." Willie said handing it over. It was postmarked Virginia with no return address.

"Open it." Lyle grunted and stood up from his desk.

Willy carefully opened it, it was a crystal mask, the iconic tragedy mask from theater.

"Cute, any card?"

Willy dug around and pulled out a small envelope, the sort a florist would put a card in.

"Jarod." Lyle snarled reading the card. He threw it down and left his office. Curious Willypicked it up.

_Checkmate, J_

Willy frowned and put it back on Lyle's desk.

* * *

Methos smiled as he heard Lyle shouting at the sweepers guarding the enormous room his cage was settled in.

"Oooh you think you're hilarious don't you?" Lyle snapped as Methos greeted him with a mocking bow.

"Bad day Mr. Lyle?" Methos asked quietly. The killer was pacing in front of Methos' cage, as though he were the one locked away.

"Y'know, zoo animals often pace like that. They engage in a series of repetitive behaviors, a bit like OCD, it's referred to as zookosis, you see, they go mad. Have you gone mad Mr. Lyle?" Methos hissed spitefully.

"Oh Ben, you are going to have a very bad day."

"I don't know Mr. Lyle the last few have been pretty tough, how 'bout yours?"

"Jarod, is alive, but you knew that, didn't you?" Lyle snarled.

Methos registered no reaction.

"You_ knew_, admit it." Lyle demanded leaning close to the bars of the cage. Methos snaked his terribly thin arm through and grabbed a fistful of Lyle's hair.

"I don't answer to you, do you understand that?" Methos hissed and released the sociopath. Lyle staggered backwards and whipped his weapon out, he emptied it into Methos' chest, and the immortal dropped to his knees then fell onto his face.

"Bastard." Lyle muttered re-holstering his weapon.


	13. Chapter 13

Methos woke slowly, eyelids fluttering, lights stinging his eyes, bringing tears. He coughed hard, feeling things shift and settle in his chest. He rolled onto his side and pulled his knees up to his chest. He felt an overwhelming sense of despair and rage threaten to wash over him. He took a long slow breath and focused on what Lyle had said. Jarod was alive, and presumably, awake. He opened his eyes and wiped at the tears on his cheeks. He sat up slowly and looked around the cage.

Lyle was gone and no sweepers were present. He sighed and sat for a few minutes, knees tucked under his chest, chin between them, arms circling his shins.

* * *

Jarod smiled at his laptop. Some things were too easy. He had finally taken steps to expose the Centre. The FBI raid months ago had certainly opened the way in. Now he'd sent dossiers on all the movers and shakers as well as the sims he'd performed and their ultimate uses to every major paper in the nation. He'd used a lot of stamps up. He leaned back and stretched his arms over his head as he waited for the screen to reload and show the updated tracking numbers on the packages.

He didn't think media exposure would really stop or even slow the Centre's activities but it would be embarrassing and annoying to continue functioning and repair whatever damage had been done to their international evil image.

It was time to shine a bright light on the cockroach nest.

* * *

Prentiss bent over the inch thick medical record she'd had delivered from Jarod's treating hospital. Most of it was depressingly repetitive. She'd elicited Reid's giant brain in deciphering some of the medical coding and terminology but the vast majority of the file was routine tests conducted at intervals to ascertain Jarod's progress.

On her third pass she spotted a reference to a test she didn't recognize. Reid had gone home so she skimmed the file a fourth time hoping to see the results somewhere. When they didn't pop up she entered a google search.

**_A/N OMGS! Was that an update? It totes was! Apologies for brevity but I wanted to throw something up right quick to prove that progress is not lost! More to come...btw lemme know what you think of things to date..._**


	14. Chapter 14

In the dream he does the smart thing.

_He doesn't talk to the tall handsome stranger with the gleam of joy about him at the Mall. He doesn't race through D.C. with him. He doesn't surprise Garcia and Prentiss. He never writes Prentiss that email and they drift apart. She meets a man who works for the justice department, they marry and divorce and she doesn't try again. Still, she's reasonably happy for a short time and then so consumed by her work that the rest doesn't matter._

_He returns to Seacouver, kills off his known names and vanishes for fifteen years. Joe ages, grows frail and dies with Macleod at his bedside, Methos isn't there. Amanda gets into trouble and waits too long to run to Macleod, she loses her head and Mac goes mad with grief…again. Methos arrives in time to put the Scot back together again and then goes his way._

_In the dream he survives another five thousand years, always being smart, being careful, always alone. And in the end, when there really is only one there is **no **prize, **no **reward, only emptiness and perfect solitude._

He woke with a gasping cry. Lyle was sitting in his cell, someone had dragged a wooden chair in. The precise sociopath was reading a paper. He carefully folded it and set it on his lap as Methos woke and instinctively shrank away from the killer. The subservient reaction pleased Lyle.

"Gooood morning Ben. I thought you were just going to sleep the night away. Pretty impressive considering the accommodations." Lyle smiled. Methos was curled on his side on the bare concrete floor.

"I like the view." Methos whispered. Echoes of the dream clung to him, the despair and solitude. One thing he knew for certain, at the end, when he was finally safe, he was still afraid, only he was _alone _and afraid.

Lyle smiled.

"I have to admit that I really admire your spirit Ben. But, here's the thing, Mr. Raines is going to be taking over. Since you won't cooperate it's been decided that your only use will be as a lab rat." Lyle said cheerfully.

"How does it feel to fail?" Methos whispered.

* * *

"What is it?" Raines asked staring at silenced footage of Lyle torturing Methos.

"We need you to find out." Mr. Parker rumbled. He was wearing a sling but none the worse for wear.

"He won't talk." Raines wheezed.

"To Lyle, his crude techniques are inadequate."

"I have certain methods but they may not work on him."

"His bloodwork shows some anomalies."

"He's a Pretender?" Raines demanded, his voice rising in excitement.

"Not exactly."

"Fascinating" Raines hissed leaning closer to the monitor.

"Mr. Parker –" Sydney said opening the door to Parker's office.

"Sydney you've had your chance with a Pretender. It didn't work out, Mr. Raines will be handling our guest from now on." Parker interrupted.

"He is not a Pretender, he's not even human –"

"Precisely." Raines hissed staring coldly at Sydney.

"He has lived with Jarod, risked his life for him, he could be our key to finding him, presumably you still want to?" Sydney demanded of Parker while ignoring Raines.

"Jarod is still our top priority, yes, but this new anomaly may prove even more useful."

"Lyle has nearly ruined him. Allow me to speak with him, I may learn something that can help us track him down."

"Very well Sydney, so long as Mr. Raines permits you can meet with him. Mr. Raines?" Parker asked.

"We're moving him today you may speak with him once he's settled." Raines hissed after a painfully long pause.

* * *

Methos felt shocked, he was sitting in a white room, clean warm clothes, soft soled shoes, hot food, a bed with warm clean bedding. It was a polar opposite of his cage, intentionally so. He knew it was all part of Raines' new regimen but he was still grateful for a full stomach and warmth. The room was cramped but he didn't mind. He ate slowly, savoring each bite and giving his wizened stomach time to expand and accept the food. He cleared half the plate and then set it aside. Even taking his time his battered system could only accept so much at one go.

He stood and explored the dresser and medicine cabinet in the room, to his disappointment they were empty. He paused and examined his horrifyingly thin face in the mirror. He grinned maniacally and laughed at the Halloween horror show that grinned back from the mirror. He sat down and sipped some water.-

"He's settling in well." Parker said studying the security footage. Lyle stood at his elbow.

"Sir, there have been some disturbing reports in several mid-sized papers across the nation, reports that mention the Centre explicitly."

Parker's cold eyes flicked to Lyle.

"How many?"

"A half dozen, TV news hasn't picked it up but it's only a matter of time."

"We have work to do then." Parker grunted.

* * *

Hotch stood in the roundtable room, a newspaper folded to a specific article in hand. He wasn't reading it, he'd read it four times and was now thinking. The Centre had been officially outed. Garcia had told them that there were reports swirling in smaller papers but now, now he was holding the New York times and reading a front page article. There hadn't been any specific mention of Jarod, or Ben, but the Centre's other nefarious activities were outlined in detail. Arms dealing, slavery, illegal trading, sponsoring work visa's for extremely dubious characters, drug trafficking and a half dozen serious white collar crimes including extensive insider trading. It was done, everything they'd tried to do months ago was in black and white on the front page of the New York Times. So why didn't he feel triumphant?

* * *

Prentiss was running late. Unusual for her but she'd had a late night tracking the news stories on the Centre. As soon as they had started showing up Garcia had diligently collected all she could find and emailed them to Prentiss. As more stories appeared and reputable newshounds started digging more information bubbled to the surface. She was desperate for news or signs of life from Jarod or Methos. So she'd been up far too late and slept through her alarm. She wasn't criminally late but if she didn't get a move on she would be.

She slipped into the office and was relieved that Hotch wasn't in sight, not that the sharp eyed lead agent would miss her tardiness. She slipped off her coat and typed her password into her computer, booting it out of sleep mode.

"Prentiss." Morgan said. Emily looked up and smiled at him.

"I know I'm late –"

"Hotch wants us in the briefing room." He said and turned on his heel. She grunted and followed.

* * *

Methos curled up on the soft bed, at first sleep wouldn't come; he'd grown accustomed to the cool hard concrete. The unfamiliar comfort threw him off, but eventually his full belly and worn out body won out.

The dream was the same, he stood alone in the ruins of a dead city, magnificent sky scrapers crumbled to hills, tarmac roads heaved up and buckled by frost and mighty tree roots. He was safe, finally, there were no other immortals, but there were no other people either.

Something had happened, all the people had left or died and now only he lived. He wandered for an eternity through the remnants of thousands of years of civilization. He didn't notice he was crying until the end, he reached up and felt the tears on his cheeks and woke up.

The tears were real.

An older man in a neat but casual suit was standing in front of the medicine cabinet. He was balding slightly and gray haired but somehow warmly regal. Methos sat up and pulled his knees to his chest braced his back against the corner of the room the bed was shoved into. As the man turned to Methos, the immortal realized who he was.

"Sydney." Methos croaked. He barely recognized the man from their very brief interaction months ago.

"I didn't know if you would recognize me." The man said, his voice lilting and musical with the traces of an accent.

Methos slipped into Flemish easily.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded. Sydney registered surprise and then replied.

"I wished to speak with you."

"To what end?"

"I want to know about Jarod, if he is alright."

"Do you know about project Gemini?"

"What? No."

"Then I'll tell you a story and you can tell me if he's alright."

* * *

"Wait, so that's it?" Prentiss demanded.

"The Justice department and white collar crimes are serving warrants right now. We have eyes on the Centre's main compound to track anyone or anything leaving." Hotch said evenly.

"What about Bowman?" Prentiss demanded, .

"He'll be taken into custody."

"He's ours Hotch –"

"Prentiss, we can't get involved, it's not our jurisdiction. If Ben is on-site they'll have to move him. The J.D. is using dogs and search teams. The Centre has been publicly implicated in illegal human trafficking, arms trading, and drug trafficking. They'll find him if he's there."

"And if he isn't?" She almost shouted.

Hotch regarded her calmly.

"Then we wouldn't be able to help him anyway."

"What about Jarod?" Rossi interjected.

"No sign of him and none of the dirt or files released by the anonymous whistle blower cite him."

"I think it's safe to say that the anonymous whistle blower is Jarod." Reid said. They looked at him.

"It's his M.O." He pointed out.

"Why now?" Morgan asked.

"Because there's no other choice. If they have Ben and Jarod can't get to him then he'll force them to let him go or at least move him. Jarod's main purpose in life is to get to his family, Ben, over time will have become a surrogate family for him, they've lived together for months, risked their lives together and for each other, someone like Jarod is incapable of walking away from a bond like that. It's the same reason he's never hurt any of the people that held him captive and doesn't hurt the teams that chase him. It's against his programming, he sees people in terms of what they mean to their families. He values them the way their families do. He's Ben's only family and vice versa he'll risk never finding his real family to get Ben out, he has to." Reid finished and took a long breath.

"I'm convinced." Morgan said.

* * *

"A clone? You are certain?" Sydney asked. He looked a bit green.

"I met the boy myself, he's the exact image of Jarod as a child. We burned the facility and got the boy to safety, with Jarod's father."

"Then he found him?"

"Yes, he did but they split up to keep the boy safe. Jarod and I were tracking a lead on his mother, we ended up working –"

"Yes, I know, and Jarod was shot." Sydney said. He definitely looked green. Methos noticed his hand was shaking as he ran it through his hair.

"Do you know if he's recovered?"

"I believe so. For the last two days reports on Centre activities have been appearing in newspapers across the country."

"Jarod." Methos said and smiled.

"It appears the house of cards is crumbling." Sydney agreed.

"What about his family?"

"Hopefully the Centre will be so busy covering its tracks and keeping personnel out of prison they'll let both him and his parents go." Sydney sighed.

"You don't believe that." Methos grunted. Sydney looked away from the immortal.

"No, I do not. But I hope so."

"It would be just like them to hunt down and kill his family to keep them quiet." Methos said grimly


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N fair warning I wrote most of this while listening to a couple Godspeed You! Black Emperor Albums on repeat. It may be a little bit odd… Bonus points to any readers that can correctly guess which two albums!**_

He woke knowing precisely what had to be done and why. He rose gently and took a slow breath, savoring the taste of the air over his tongue, the way his nostrils flared, and the slight wrinkling of his nose as he did so. He felt well rested, energized, fully prepared.

At some point in the night, he had realized that as much as his heart ached for his dead brother Kyle, for his father, his mother, his sister, and even the boy – his own clone, in spite of all that he had known that his only real family now was the man who had walked into hell and volunteered for chains for him.

Jarod had struggled to understand why Methos had done it. Why do something so reckless and, on the surface, pointless? Because it would buy Jarod time. If the Centre thought he was dead they would be too busy dissecting Methos, their resources and attention would be reallocated. Giving Jarod time to heal and plan.

Now the circle was closing. Time had run out. He had to save his family. If he could, he would warn his biological family, send up a signal flare, a smoke signal, detonate a nuclear S.O.S. ordering them to run, to find one another, to embrace the boy and rebuild what lives they could.

For today he walked out of theirs.

* * *

Methos wasn't surprised when hours after Sydney left two sweepers arrived with chains and locked him down. They held the door while he shuffled into the corridor. He assumed they were moving him, him and every other incriminating person and scrap of data they could get their hands on. He smiled and shuffled along, knowing that as soon as an opportunity arrived he would be at their throats and out the door. He had work to do.

* * *

Prentiss felt helpless. She stared at the paper and the muted TV alternately. The TV was showing an overhead view of the main Centre compound from a news chopper. She felt helpless, resentful, desperate, and empty. He was there, she though, she could almost feel him.

She stood in front of her desk staring at the reporters miming and gesticulating as the chopper coverage shrank to a corner of the screen. She wanted to scream, to grab the painted talking heads by their lapels, to tell them how it really was. To tell them the man she loved was at the mercy of these monsters, the monsters were on the run and like the monsters before them they were doing their best to hide their crimes, by eliminating the evidence.-

Garcia watched Prentiss and felt a deep anger. She knew that the Centre was pure evil, she knew that the BAU family had done their best to help Jarod and Methos, had tried to bring down the Centre their way. She'd hacked it as thoroughly as she could but had been cut off when the Centre woke up and shut down the hard line connection, she knew full well what they were capable of and she refused to stand and watch while Prentiss' went through agony waiting to find out if the only man she'd loved had been found alive. She tossed the file she'd been clutching onto the nearest desk and stomped up to Prentiss.

"Emily, I love you but this is ridiculous you're taking a personal day so we can wreck our careers and save your boyfriend's butt." She said taking Emily's arm and hauling her toward the elevators.

* * *

The sweepers seemed impatient, nervous, they kept tugging on Methos' arms, urging him to move faster.

"You've shackled my legs, I can only move so fast." Methos snapped. The sweepers exchanged looks and the younger of the two knelt to remove the shackles. Methos waited until the loathsome things were off and then moved. He garroted the youthful Sweeper into unconsciousness and bludgeoned his partner with the shackles. He dropped them to the ground and paused to check the downed men's pulses. Satisfied they would be out of the way but alive in a few hours Methos removed his manacles and moved deeper into the Centre. If the Centre was shutting down suspicious activities then Sydney and Angelo could be in danger.


	16. Chapter 16

Sydney watched the news on Broots' tiny TV. The two men were enthralled.

"D'yeah think they'll start arresting people?" Broots asked.

"I don't know. It will depend on what evidence they have and what the warrants say."

Broots chewed on a handful of popcorn for a few moments while the news footage played on.

"Hello boys, how's things?" Miss Parker asked sourly as she entered Broots' work area.

"Hello Miss Parker, I trust you're well covered?" Sydney asked nodding at the TV.

"I have no idea Syd." Parker sighed.

"You don't have a plan?" Sydney pressed.

"No Syd, I really don't." Parker growled. She looked exhausted.

"Lyle could be selling you out to the authorities right now." Broots said horrified.

"No, he's not that stupid. The Centre will throw so many lawyers and shredders at this it'll make Enron look like a traffic stop." She sighed and sat down.

"Are they going to move Ben?" Sydney asked.

"Yeah, they're moving him now." Parker said staring at the TV. A klaxon went off and security doors started to close sealing the trio in. They raced for the exit.

"What's going on?" Sydney asked.

"Sounds like the fire alarm." Broots shouted over the racket.

* * *

Methos raced along, he hadn't set off the alarm but he was fairly certain he'd be sealed in if he didn't get to an exit or main corridor quickly. He slid to a halt on a white linoleum floor and glanced around, he was at a T-intersection, to his right was a very long hallway, to the left a shorter hallway ending at a door. If the door were locked he'd waste time trying to open it but the longer hallway would eat up time too.

He went for the door. It was locked, he bashed out its small window with his elbow cutting the shit out of it in the process and reached through to unlock it.

He slipped through and started running again. He could see a security door starting to slide shut on what looked like an exit. He put on a burst of speed and managed to duck under the door and force open the door.

Bright sunlight seared his eyes, the pain was so sudden and intense that he dropped to one knee and buried his face in his arm.

* * *

Garcia was arguing with one of the officers on the perimeter.

"Look smokey, we're federal agents –"

"Lady you could be the president of the freakin' country, no _one_ goes through here, if you have a legitimate reason to be here you can go through the main entrance and get checked out. Period." The cop growled.

Prentiss ground her teeth.

"Look, officer we appreciate your situation but we absolutely have to get in there, lives depend on it." Prentiss said. She handed him her I.D. and hoped for the best.

He took his time looking it over. Prentiss wasn't sure if he was doing it to be an asshole, because he'd never seen one, or he really was trying to be thorough. Finally he handed it back.

"I'm sorry Agent Prentiss but I really can't let you through. The DOJ has a stick up their ass over this one." He apologized.

Prentiss nodded and let out a frustrated sigh.

"Come on Prentiss." Garcia said firmly and took her friend by the arm.

Garcia lead them around the perimeter until she spotted an apparently unguarded section.

"Okay, here's the deal Emily, I'm going to make a huge scene and you are going to go in there and rescue your sexy foreign boyfriend.

"Garcia-" Emily objected.

"Emily, we did not drive for four hours just to go back without him. We're doing this."

Emily blew out a long breath and then smiled at Garcia. She hugged the shorter woman.

* * *

Jarod was standing by a tree outside the Centre's main gates. He was smiling as he watched the hive of chaos surrounding the Centre. He had absolutely no doubt that the Centre would survive this stunt largely intact. He was hoping it would be enough to get them to back off. But first, he had to find Methos. He walked forward planning to simply walk into the Centre when his foot hit something.

He bent at the waist and picked up the hard object that had struck his foot. A phone. He recognized the model, out of curiosity he turned it on. He waited to see if the phone's OS would boot properly. To his surprise it did, and the phone had a nearly full charge.

Jarod grunted in surprise and thumbed through the phone's programmed numbers. Who would be sitting outside the Centre? And who would leave an expensive high quality smart phone behind? He navigated to the recent history and studied what was listed.

Macleod, Emily, and Joe all showed up in the last screen of calls. Almost three months ago if the dates were correct. He thumbed over to the voicemail list and hit play and speaker on the most recent.

He listened to the old message from Emily and from Macleod.

"What did you do?" Jarod muttered and looked up toward the Centre, his face was twisted with worry.

* * *

Methos got to his feet and felt for a wall. He put his right hand on it and shielded his eyes with his left. He couldn't believe how hard it was to look at the cream colored wall in full daylight. He wondered how long he'd been in that poorly lit cage.

He felt his way along with no clear plan. He wanted to get the hell away but he was functionally blind for the next few minutes at least. He twisted until his back was to the wall and felt for the ground then slid down and sat. He forced his eyes open, they teared and ached and closed. He gave them a few seconds and did it again. After a few cycles he could keep them open and managed to squint at the immediate area.

It was a parking lot. He got to his feet, still using the wall for support, and started walking toward the corner of the building. His bare feet were sore from running and the rough ground under foot. He paused and leaned against the wall to scrape bits of rock and dirt from the soles of his feet.

* * *

Prentiss could hear Garcia shouting and making a fuss further down the perimeter. She didn't waste any time, she ducked under the cordon and jogged toward the building. She really had no way of knowing where Methos was but she wasn't going back to D.C. without him. She spotted movement near the edge of the parking lot and slowed slightly. She didn't want to run face first into Centre security or DOJ agents.

* * *

Methos straightened and started walking again. He could almost see normally now but he had a pounding headache. It was well worth it. He was breathing fresh air, feeling the wind on his skin, the pain in his feet was wonderful. The rough tarmac under foot felt beautiful. He found himself wondering if Jarod had felt like this once he'd gained his freedom. As far as Methos could tell the Pretender was kept inside the Centre for the vast majority of his life. What wonder and joy had he felt about the outside?

He froze, someone was shouting. He swiveled his head and twisted to find the source of the cries. A woman was running toward him, shouting…shouting his name?

* * *

Emily spotted a man in white limping across the tarmac. She started moving toward him. He was dressed like a tai chi practitioner, barefoot he seemed disoriented. She frowned and picked up her pace, after a few steps she froze in her tracks.

It was Methos, thin, terribly thin and blinking in the light like a newborn but it was him. She watched as he stepped away from the wall he was leaning on, she could see the scars on the back of his right hand.

"Methos!" She shouted and started sprinting to him, shouting his name when she had enough breath to. He paused, looked confused and then saw her.

His back straightened, he stared at her for a second and then grinned and started limping to her. They met in a clash of limbs. Methos wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight enough to pop her back. She held him just as tight. Slowly they released each other. Emily touched Methos' face with a trembling hand.

"You came for me?" He asked hoarsely.

"Of course I came for you, you idiot. Why didn't you let us help you?" She chided and slipped an arm around his waist. Together they moved toward the perimeter.

"You couldn't do anything as an agent and I had to…I had to do it Prentiss." He sighed and winced as they reached the perimeter and the rough broken rock that surrounded the parking area.

Garcia appeared with an angry officer on her heels.

"Hi guys, Ben nice to see you in one piece, we should go like, right _now._" She insisted. The officer was caught in the crowd of onlookers. Garcia and Prentiss hustled Methos toward Garcia's less than inconspicuous circa early 1960s boat of a convertible. It was bright pink.

"This isn't going to end well." Methos muttered as he hopped into the exposed rear seat. The women took the front.

* * *

Jarod faced the gates again. He absent mindedly tapped the phone screen and chewed his lip. He could see a commotion at one side of the perimeter as a large pink convertible peeled out and zoomed toward the gate.

The phone in Jarod's hand started to squeal at him. He looked down startled and realized he'd dialed the last number called.

"Hello? Who is this?" He asked.

"Agent Emily Prentiss, how did you get this phone?" She demanded. Jarod could hear squealing tires and someone shouting.

"Are you in that convertible?" He asked with a grin.

"Maybe, who is this?"

"Jarod." He admitted and waved as the car approached the gates at high speed.

* * *

"We officially live in the twilight zone." Emily said as Garcia slammed on the brakes to get through the gate.

"What?" Garcia shouted over the roar of the engine.

"Stop outside the gate and pick up the lunatic under the tree." Prentiss said.

Garcia stared at her for a half second.

"Twilight zone!" Prentiss shouted as Garcia hit the gas and shot through the gate. The car rocketed forward about two hundred or so feet and slewed to a halt at the base of the hill holding the tree. Jarod hopped into the back, nearly landing on Methos. Methos sat up, staring at Jarod as though he were a ghost. He grabbed the bigger man and stared at him for a moment before hugging him.

Jarod returned the embrace warmly and then put the phone in Methos' thin hand and closed the immortal's fingers over it.

"You dropped this awhile ago." Jarod said with his characteristic infectious grin.

Methos stared at it. He couldn't process what had happened in the last forty-five minutes. He'd miraculously broken free from the Centre, found Prentiss after she'd been dragged on an impulsive six hour drive, and now, now Jarod was handing him his long abandoned phone back after apparently accidentally calling Prentiss on it.

Maybe, he thought, just maybe, there were such things as gods after all.

_**A/N wow, so...that was...kinda ridic heh, anyway it's 0500 and I've been up for like 25 hours now, so I'm going to go to sleep now. As always R&R, if y'don't like this chapter, gimme a shout! If you do, also gimme a shout! :D**_


	17. Chapter 17

"What is he?" Mr. Parker demanded staring at the emaciated balding Mr. Raines. The skeletal man was leaning over a desk and staring at a file.

"Some kind of hybrid." Raines wheezed and straightened.

Parker glowered and adjusted his sling.

"Hybrid?" He prompted.

"He has the Pretender anomaly but his physiology is clearly enhanced. Jarod doesn't heal the way he does."

"We know that Raines." Parker snarled.

"I don't know what he is Mr. Parker."

"Can his abilities be replicated?"

"Uncertain. We need more samples."

"Well we haven't got them. He's being moved now."

"Fine, when he's settled and this has blown over we'll-"

"Mr. Parker?" Willy interrupted nervously.

"Yes?" Parker replied irritably. Willy had stepped just inside the office but lingered by the door.

"Uh, Ben, he uh, he escaped."

"What?" Raines hissed.

"When?" Parker barked.

"Fifteen minutes ago."

"Find him." Parker snarled and strode toward the door, he paused and looked back at Raines.

"Use what you have, I want an answer." Parker ordered. Raines watched Parker leave, Willy hurried after him.

"What are you?" He wheezed at the file.

* * *

Methos woke abruptly. His head was spinning and he was shivering. He and Jarod had left the women, gone to ground in some bolthole Prentiss had found for them. It was a loft above a warehouse used for long term storage. Methos hadn't seen what was below them but assumed it was safe. He sat up and looked around.

The loft was larger than they needed. Two mattresses were in one corner – Methos was sprawled on one- another held a work area with a bench, Jarod's DSA reader was open on it, a black and white scene had been paused. It looked like a low angle showing an MRI or similar machine. The background was dark and fuzzy, the floor looked like some kind of hardwood.

"You're awake!" Jarod said happily. Methos smiled. For a few hours after getting out he'd been sure he was dreaming. The he was still locked in the white room, or in his basement cage, still Lyle's toy or a puzzle for Raines to solve, still owned and Prentiss, Jarod, even Garcia and her mighty but appropriate pink Cadillac were just fevered figments.

"I brought some soup." Jarod said. He was standing at the top of the stairs leading down into the warehouse. He peered into a plastic bag holding takeout food containers.

"Emily?" Methos asked, his voice was croaking and weak, he frowned.

"She'll be back soon I guess she had to talk to Agent Hotchner." Jarod said walking toward the DSA reader, he set the bag down and started pulling out the food.

"What were you watching?" Methos asked.

"A file Sydney sent me awhile ago." Jarod said tightly. Methos noticed the edge in the Pretender's voice. He slowly got to his feet.

Methos was still quite weak, Prentiss had given him a change of clothing when the group arrived at the loft so he wasn't wearing the white tunic anymore he even had a pair of boots and socks. He slipped them on and carefully laced the bots.

"How did Prentiss know my shoe size?" He asked aloud.

"I told her." Jarod said, he opened a plastic container and sniffed the soup within.

"Chicken noodle." He said with a grin.

"You know my boot size?" Methos asked.

"Yeah I was a boot maker for a little while." Jarod said portioning the soup and a roll into another container for Methos.

"Should've guessed." Methos croaked and smiled. He couldn't believe Jarod was alive, healthy, in front of him.

Jarod finished portioning the food and sat down next to Methos on the mattress.

"Here, eat it slowly and don't try to finish it if you're full."

"Yes mother." Methos smiled.

* * *

"Prentiss I understand you did what you thought was necessary. I even agree with your actions once you were on scene but this is over my head – and Strauss'. You're being suspended for one month without pay." Hotchner said evenly.

"Hotch –"

"You interfered with a DOJ investigation. They want to know what you were doing there and who Ben is."

"Hotch we can't –"

"You're on suspension along with Garcia until the DOJ is satisfied that you haven't negatively impacted the investigation."

"And they only need a month for that?" Prentiss asked tightly.

"For now. Prentiss, this may cost you your career." Hotchner said gently. She nodded and wiped at a single tear that had spilled on to her cheek. She looked at Hotchner and squared her shoulders.

"It was worth it Hotch."

"I know." He agreed thinking about his bloodied fists and the Reaper's dead battered face. Sometimes it was worth it.

* * *

"Jarod, the boy, he's still with your father?" Methos asked. Jarod stiffened and then nodded.

"As far as I know he is and they're both safe." Jarod said firmly. He was doing something on a laptop near the DSA reader – still paused at the same point as when Methos had woken.

"Why you? I mean I get that you're a pretender but they've had others, Kyle for one. So why clone you?"

Jarod sat back from the computer.

"I'm not sure. Maybe something about me made me…easier to manipulate than Kyle."

"No, Jarod you're a good man but there's just as much darkness in you as there was in Kyle." Methos said gently.

"Why?" Jarod asked turning to face Methos. Methos was lying on his mattress, hands tucked behind his head.

"Something isn't right about all this. They've spent millions hunting you, probably a billion dollars trying to clone you but why? Any child with a reasonably high IQ could be molded into a decent Pretender. And why are they so obsessed with your family?"

"I don't know Methos, I don't know why." Jarod said angrily.

Methos sat up on his elbows. He was dressed in a black T-shirt, dark jeans and boots. A leather jacket hung on a chair near the work area. Jarod was dressed almost identically. When Methos had asked he'd said there hadn't been time to be picky, Methos didn't pry.

"Finish your soup." Jarod urged. Methos grunted and got up. He sat in the chair holding his coat and picked up the remains of the soup. He soaked a roll in it and took a bite.

"You said they thought I was a Pretender right?" Methos asked around a mouthful of sopping bread. Jarod made a face and handed the immortal a napkin.

"Yes."

"Based on blood?"

"I think so."

Methos fell silent the soft sounds of his eating and Jarod typing on the laptop filled the loft. They heard the sound of a car engine approaching, idling, and shutting off. Methos swallowed and got to his feet he slipped the coat on and crept to the stairway. Jarod closed the DSA reader and Laptop and moved to a dusty window. He peered down toward the street.

"I can't see it from here." Jarod grunted and moved to join Methos.

"It's okay, it's me." Prentiss said from the bottom of the steps. Methos relaxed and looked at Jarod.

"Emily!" Jarod said happily.

"Hi Jarod." She smiled. Methos stepped forward, down one step and pulled her into an embrace. She melted into him and for a moment they were safe and together. She pressed her face against the soft material of his t-shirt, felt the warmth of his skin underneath, the strong scent of him. Methos curled his fingers in her hair, caught the faint scent of her conditioner, he focused on the reality of her in his arms, no dream, no fevered longing but reality.

Jarod cleared his throat. They broke from the embrace, Methos lead Prentiss into the loft.

"Garcia and I have been suspended." Prentiss sighed.

"What? No Emily –"

"I don't think you can get us out of this one Jarod, and I don't want you to." Prentiss said cutting him off. Methos carefully sat on the chair and looked up at Emily, still holding her hand. He squeezed it comfortingly.

"Why?" Jarod demanded."

"Because it will only attract more attention and the DOJ is already involved. They want to know who Ben is and why we were there." She explained.

Jarod frowned thinking.

"I can fix this, I have a contact –" Methos said abruptly.

"No, really. This…this will work." She said firmly.

"Why?" Methos asked. He knew her, she had fought tooth and nail to secure her position in the BAU. She wouldn't just walk away from it, even temporarily.

She didn't answer for a moment, just released Methos' hand and walked to the dingy window.

"I joined the BAU to stop killers, to …to do something good." She paused and the men were patiently silent. She turned on her heel and faced them.

"They can do that without me, I'm needed here, with you. " Methos moved to argue, to object.

"No. You two need me and I…I need you Ben. I can't stand in that office in DC and know what you're going through, what you're risking and know that you could die and I may never find out. Life is short and I'm not going to watch the one really good thing in it slip away."

"This isn't going to be a temporary suspension is it?" Methos asked softly.

"No. I'm going to resign tomorrow morning." She admitted.

"Emily if you ever change your mind and want to go back this-"

"I know Jarod but this is what I want." She said firmly.

"You won't be able to go back." Methos said finishing Jarod's truncated objection. Emily walked to him, knelt in front of him and took his hands in hers.

"I'm not going back Methos." She said firmly. Something undefined, some subtle tension fled Methos then, a small smile crossed his lips and she leaned forward and kissed him.


	18. Chapter 18

"So they want you for something intrinsic, something in your genetics?" Prentiss asked.

They were still in the loft; hours had passed while the trio discussed their immediate options. They'd decided to leave town, maybe the country as soon as Prentiss turned in her resignation.

"It looks that way." Jarod admitted.

"We need more information." Methos muttered.

"Like what?" Prentiss asked.

"Blood work, a genetic work up on both of us."

"Is that safe?" Jarod asked.

"If _we_ do it yes." Methos replied. He was sitting at Jarod's laptop.

"We don't have the right equipment –"

"I know but I know someone that does." Methos said glancing at his companions over the laptop screen.

Joe sighed and kept wiping the pristine bartop. He paused and reapplied wood polish to his rag and went back to it. Months with no word from Methos, didn't know if he was dead or alive. At first he'd assumed the tricky immortal was alive and well but with the weird shit on the news about that cesspit in Delaware and some of the rumors he was picking up from other Watchers he wasn't so sure anymore. It had taken all of Joe's skills and logic to keep Macleod from racing after the ancient immortal. Mac meant well but Joe knew Methos would resent the hell out of any intrusion. He had a right to his privacy even if that privacy involved getting himself killed. Didn't he?

The door to the bar jangled as his afternoon bartender arrived. Joe grunted at the man in greeting and kept wiping.

Worst case scenario, something happened to the old guy, Joe would find out right? Someone would report it…except why would they? Most of the Watchers knew Methos was immortal they just didn't know he was _him_, they thought he was Adam Pierson ex-researcher and shiny new immortal. But he didn't have a Watcher so…

"Hey Joe you want me to get Alice on Host today?" The bartender asked. Joe blinked.

"Yeah, if Amanda shows up keep her on tables five and six I'd rather have her on the tables than host."

Joe wiped the bar again.

"You have answers?" Parker demanded.

"Some. " Raines admitted. Parker grunted and walked to his desk. He reached into a drawer and removed an amber bottle of liquor. He poured himself a healthy dose and sat down.

"Well?" He prompted.

"They're both Pretenders." Raines wheezed. Parker gave him a flat lizard stare.

"What about Ben?"

"He's something more. I need more samples to be sure but based on what I have he was once like Jarod, but something changed his physiology."

"So Jarod could be like him?"

"It's possible."

"We don't need to run tests –" Jarod objected.

"Why?" Methos asked mildly.

"What will we possibly find out? That you're immortal? We know that –"

"Jarod you don't feel like a pre-immortal to me. If that's what you're afraid of –"

"I know I'm not. I've died." Jarod cut Methos off.

"What?" Methos asked.

Jarod walked to the DSA and hit play. Prentiss and Methos watched in silence as Jarod – half naked, screaming and resisting was dragged to the machine resembling an MRI scanner and strapped down. They watched as Lyle and Raines injected him with something, watched his monitor flat line and watched them bring him back.

"Fuck." Emily breathed.

Methos watched the DSA play through, watch Jarod dragged to the machine several days in a row, killed and revived over and over again. Emily looked away, met Jarod's eyes.

"I don't know." Methos murmured. Jarod's eyes clicked over to Methos and narrowed.

"Don't know?" He demanded. Methos was almost surprised by Jarod's anger.

"Triggering immortality requires a violent death. This is peaceful." Methos explained.

Jarod's jaws flexed, muscle rippling but he didn't reply, simply hit play again. The sounds of Jarod begging and fighting filled the loft.

Methos closed his eyes, let out a slow breath.

"The death has to cause physical damage. Poisoning and illness won't work." Methos said tiredly and opened his eyes.

"But you said he doesn't feel like a pre-immortal anyway, right?" Emily pointed out. Methos nodded.

"Well then what if you're both Pretenders but only you are immortal?" She asked Methos.

Jarod closed the DSA and the terrible sound of his pained cries was abruptly cut off.

"It still doesn't track, not entirely. It's possible we both have what the Centre is calling the Pretender anomaly and only he's an immoral," Jarod said nodding at Methos, "but that still doesn't explain why they've chased me so hard and spent so much money or why they cloned me." Jarod grunted.

"Maybe it's the anomaly." Emily mused. The men looked at her blankly.

"Have you ever heard or seen them refer to it as the Pretender anomaly or just the anomaly?" She prompted. Jarod frowned.

"If the anomaly is unique to you or your family and not Pretenders in general then that's probably what they're after." She finished.

It was so simple, Methos thought, they wanted his blood.

"Then what does that make me?" Methos muttered unaware he was speaking out loud.

"Find him." Parker growled. His daughter stared at him, face neutral.

"We couldn't capture Jarod when he was on the run alone. He has an ally now-" She said coldly.

"We want them both, alive and as soon as possible. Take every sweeper the Centre has find them."

Miss Parker turned on her heel and walked out. Broots and Sydney were waiting in her office.

"They want us to hunt him down." Sydney stated as she walked in. She nodded and walked to her window. Broots shifted his weight nervously.

"Why do they want Jarod so badly Sydney? Don't tell me it's because he's a Pretender." She said quietly.

"I'm not sure Miss Parker." Sydney deflected.

"Why are they so interested in him Sydney? They cloned him for god's sake. Is that why my mother died? To save him from that? To keep the Centre from literally playing god?" Her voice was thick with emotion.

The men were silent. Sydney approached her.

"Your mother was a courageous woman she was braver and stronger than I Miss Parker." He was almost apologetic.

She turned to him, crystal clear eyes swimming with unshed tears.

"She was the best of us." She whispered.

"Uh, Miss Parker, what do we do?" Broots asked.

Parker squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.

"In for a penny in for a pound Broots, we get Jarod and Ben."

"Miss Parker –" Sydney objected.

"If I don't bring them back to the Centre Sydney they'll sic a Cleaner on me and unless you want Lyle in my office you'll help me." She said coldly.

Sydney didn't reply, just looked deeply saddened.


	19. Chapter 19

Angelo peered down at Miss Parker through the A/C vent in her office. The strangers had come and gone and now only the Centre people were left. He felt better without the strangers but there was something…

He hurried back into the maze of ducts and shafts he called home.

* * *

Miss Parker stared blindly out the car window. The greenery of Delaware whipped past unheeded. Her eyes were open but her thoughts and vision were turned inward.

April 13th the day her mother was slaughtered in front of her. She could hear her horrified denying screams, feel Sydney's hands on her shoulders, the cold floor hit her knees as she dropped at her mother's side, the strong hands of a sweeper agent as he hauled her to her feet….

She blinked and a single tear crawled down her cheek. She blinked again and wiped at the tear with her fingertips, she stared at the moisture on her fingertips, glistening nearly as brightly as her neatly manicure nails. She looked out the window again.

* * *

"He could be so much more." Mr. Parker rumbled staring down at Raines.

"Yes, he could be but we need him for the scrolls."

"I know that Raines. As long as the triumvirate doesn't realize that until we have him we're safe. They're afraid of the scrolls, superstitious cowards." Parker growled.

"There may be cause for their fear Mr. Parker. We haven't read them." Raines wheezed.

"If we don't get Jarod back it won't matter." Parker snorted.

* * *

"Emily, wait." Methos said and slowly got to his feet. She was standing at the top of the stairs.

"Methos you won't change my mind on this." She said firmly. She was going to go to the BAU and write up her letter of resignation.

"You had to turn over your credentials-" He said lamely.

"Derek will escort me in." She said firmly.

"Don't do this." He said. He knew her answer.

"This isn't just about you and Jarod, this is about me. I don't want to just be a badge and a name. I need more, I need you." She said firmly.

"Then take a leave of absence. Just…if you resign while under investigation you'll never be able to go back."

"I realize that." She said heatedly.

"Just hear me out. Please?" He asked. Emily glanced at the mattresses. Jarod was sprawled asleep. She nodded.

"If things don't work out, between us, or the Centre or…or if I don't make it you'll need something to go back to. I know you, you'll need to work, to be busy. Please, don't end your career like this. They're your family. Think of how they'll feel." He said gently.

She checked her watch and looked back at him.

"I –" He reached forward and kissed her, hard and furious.

For a moment she resisted and then kissed him back with just as much fire and need. She pressed him back against the stair railing, hands sliding under his t-shirt and over his soft hot skin. His arms wrapped around her pulling her close, he broke the kiss and looked into her eyes.

"Emily –"

She kissed him, cutting off all arguments.

* * *

Jarod dreamed. He was with Kyle running from the Centre again. This time Kyle hadn't died in his arms, Lyle hadn't had a chance to shoot him. They were side by side running through the midnight desert, racing toward a stolen truck and hopefully their family beyond it.

He ran to the driver's side of the truck but couldn't get it open. He hauled on the door handle but the door wouldn't open. He peered in and could see the door was unlocked, the keys were on the driver's seat.

"Kyle, you have to open your door and let me in, Kyle!" He shouted. Kyle just stared at him over the roof of the truck.

"I decide who lives or dies." Kyle said stiffly. A blossom of red blood appeared in the middle of his chest, soaking through his pale gray t-shirt.

"I decide who lives or dies, I decide who lives or dies, I decide who lives or dies." Kyle said mechanically. Jarod raced around the truck reached for his dying brother as he fell to his knees.

"I decide who lives and dies." Kyle said staring into Jarod's eyes.

"I decide who lives or dies." Jarod hissed and sat up. His mouth was dry and foul, he looked around but Methos and Emily were gone. Methos' coat hung on the chair. Not gone for good then, probably. His head throbbed; he carefully sat up and walked over to the laptop. He picked up a Pez dispenser absently tossed near the DSA reader and chewed one of the chalky candies. His mouth filled with saliva and the flavored candy chased away the foulness. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment then leaned back and hit play on the DSA player.

The scene of him being dragged to his chemically induced death began to play again. He grunted and ejected the disc. He thumbed through the DSA discs he hadn't reviewed recently or at all and chose one at random.

The disc played, it showed Jarod, about thirteen sitting in his quarters. Raines and another man stood on a catwalk overlooking him.

"Very good Jarod." Raines said. His voice was strong, youthful almost he wasn't dragging an oxygen tank.

"Will Sydney be back soon Mr. Raines?" Young Jarod asked. Jarod frowned and leaned forward. He didn't recall this event.

"Yes Jarod. Now, do the next part." Raines said.

Jarod leaned forward and frowned. He couldn't see what his younger self was working on.

"I don't want to Mr. Raines –"

"Do it boy." Raines growled.

Young Jarod bent over the table in front of him and started to do what looked like some kind of drawing.

"He's the best we've ever seen." The stranger said.

"Yes. There's more to him than the average Pretender candidate." Raines growled.

"The anomaly?"

"And the scrolls."

"So it's really him?"

"We won't know for sure until – "

"I know. See that he finishes the drawing and have it sent to me."

"Right away." Raines grunted and the stranger disappeared from the camera's line of sight. The DSA ended there.

Jarod frowned and leaned back in the chair. Who had the stranger been and what scrolls were they talking about?

He heard movement downstairs, footsteps, hurried and not trying to be quiet. Jarod hurried to the stairs and crouched down to get a look at the source. He saw flickers of movement, a spike of panic punctured his chest, he rose and hurried to the DSA reader, he snapped it shut and picked up Methos' coat. He moved toward the row of dusty windows as someone started walking up the stairs.

"Jarod?"

* * *

Methos waited patiently outside Quantico's gates. Prentiss had promised she wouldn't resign outright. She'd been gone for over two hours. He didn't want to panic but he was worried about leaving Jarod alone. He got out of the rental car and started to pace. He kept checking his cell phone watching seconds and minutes tick away.

"You're sure you want this kitten?" Garcia asked. She had come in to brief her replacement. She and Prentiss were sitting in the round table room.

"Yeah, it is. I love him Garcia and I'm not going to let him walk away again. Especially now."

"Leave of absence huh?"

"Yeah, well sometimes having a political family can be beneficial. This way the DOJ gets their blood and I might have a chance of a career after everything settles."

"We're going to so miss you. How long will it be?"

"Three months. "

"Ouch."

"Yeah well, I don't think the Centre is going to give up even after being gutted by the DOJ, but it feels…" She trailed off. Garcia took her hand and smiled encouragingly.

"It feels like things are coming to a head. Whatever they're hiding, whatever the real reason they want Jarod, this whole thing will be over soon."

"Then what?" Garcia asked. Emily looked at her.

"You gonna keep stretch in your apartment? Get him a job? What about Jarod, he doesn't have a full name and I can't even find a social security number for him _or_ his brother. As far as the digital world is concerned they don't' exist chickadee."

"We'll figure it out. Besides I know this hacker that might be able to sort a few things out for us." Emily said with a grin.

* * *

"Dad?" Jarod asked voice strangled with emotion, from terror and near panic to …what?

"Jarod!" Major Charles replied. He looked older than Jarod remembered, tired, worn. Jarod didn't waste time thinking about that but rushed forward and embraced his father.

"Jarod we don't have much time." Major Charles said as they broke the embrace.

"Are you safe? What about the boy?"

"He's safe, he's with your mother." Charles said.

Jarod felt like he'd been gut punched. His clone was being raised by his mother… He shook the reaction off.

"Jarod I know this is hard for you-"

"Why are you here, how did you find me?"

"Your friend Garcia sent me an email."

Something went off in Jarod's gut, a warning.

"Where's Mom?" He asked.

"She's safe, they both are, we have to get out of here the Centre is hot on your heels son."

"Dad I can't just go-"

"We have to-"

"I can't." Jarod said sternly.

"Jarod please –"

"Dad what's going on, tell me." Jarod insisted. He lead the older man to the single chair and helped him Sit. He seemed frail suddenly.

"Jarod I'm sorry, they're coming." He said voice quavering. Jarod felt a lead weight settle in his belly.

"Who?"

"Parker and the others, they have the boy, they said they'd let him go-"

"If you set me up." Jarod said hollowly. He had been right to change his path, to leave his family be, but even that hadn't protected them or him.

"I'm so sorry Jarod."

The Pretender looked at the window.

"They're downstairs waiting. They surrounded the building." There were tears in Major Charles' eyes.

"Dad it's okay, I have friends –"

"They'll be too late Jarod. Listen to me your mother and sister are safe, get the boy out of here."

"He's here now?"

"Downstairs, they caught us coming into town."

"How did you know we were here?"

"That little maneuver with the pink Cadillac made the regional news, it took us a day or so to get here and a few more hours to track you down."

"Okay, Dad listen to me, I have an idea." Jarod said intently.

* * *

Parker stared up at the warehouse loft windows. There had been some movement as soon as Major Charles entered but now all was still and quiet.

"We should have mic'd him before he went in." Parker growled at Broots.

"There wasn't time Miss Parker." Broots sighed.

She knew that but waiting was fraying her last nerve.

Jarod crept up to the stairwell, he rested his hand on the rail and peered down at the main floor. The rail seemed looser than he recalled, he leaned his weight onto it and noted that it shifted and groaned slightly. He ignored the change and carefully walked down the stairs and into the main area. The warehouse was largely empty, several dust coated crates were neatly stacked in the main area and against the walls but the majority of the area was empty.

Jarod moved quickly to the exit and peered out.

He could see two town cars parked at right angles to each other. Parker was crouched behind one, weapon in hand, three sweeper teams were forming a perimeter beyond the vehicles. Jarod could see Broots half hidden behind Parker, Sydney didn't seem to be present. He had to find the boy before he made a move.

"Jarod, it's over, you're going back –"

"Why? So your baby brother can torture me?" Jarod snarled. He was surprised by the venom in his voice, but why not? Parker and her family had worked to ruin his, killed his brother, stolen him from his parents, assaulted his sister and parents and _cloned_ him.

"Project Gemini Parker!" Jarod shouted, unbidden tears stung his eyes, rage, grief, resentment, disgust and raw pain warred in his chest.

"Be calm son, don't give them the satisfaction." Major Charles said gently, he was standing at Jarod's elbow out of Parker's line of sight.

"Dad –"

"The boy is in one of the towncars, he has to be." Charles interrupted. Jarod took a slow shuddering breath and closed his eyes. He felt his father's hands on his shoulders and opened his eyes.

"I love you Jarod, I know you're a good man and I'm proud of you. Kyle would be too." Charles said warmly. Jarod smiled shakily and nodded.

"I love you too Dad." He said and turned back to Parker and the sweepers.

* * *

"You'll be missed Prentiss." Hotchner said. Prentiss smiled.

"You'll find a replacement Hotch, who knows maybe I'll be back." She said with little conviction.

"I hope so Prentiss. The DOJ might be mollified now but politics are tricky."

"I know. Either way Hotch it's been an honor." She said and offered her hand. He shook it firmly.

Methos had gotten back into the rental. He was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in between obsessively checking his phone. Finally he looked up and Prentiss was walking toward the car. He sighed in relief and reached over to unlock her door.

"It's done." She said getting in.

"Resign?" He asked studying her face. She was upset but resolved.

"No, no I put in a leave of absence. Most of the team was on a case so I didn't…I didn't have to say goodbye."

"Hopefully you won't have to either." He said and took her hand.

* * *

"I'll run for the nearest towncar, you wait till they move on me and then go for the boy."

"Dad there are six sweepers out there, plus Parker and whoever is in the car with the boy." Jarod objected.

"It's your plan son, and it's a good one. Use your instincts and your skills you'll choose the right car, just get in and drive, get the boy away."

"Dad, what about –"

"Me? I'm staying behind this time son. " Charles said firmly.

"Dad, no-" Jarod objected, he sounded stricken, his eyes searched Charles'.

"It's okay son, I'm an old man, you and the boy are more important. I love you and you've grown to be a better man than I could ever be, I'm so proud of you Jarod. Save the boy and find your mother and sister."

"Where are they Dad?"

"I don't know. " He said sadly. Charles hugged Jarod then, warm and fierce. Jarod returned the embrace greedily, memorizing the feel of Charles' arms around him, the scent of him, the warmth of his skin. They broke apart finally as Parker shouted a challenge outside the warehouse.

"I love you too Dad." Jarod said with a smile tears in his eyes.

Charles clapped him on the shoulder and walked to the doorway. Jarod watched, he felt petrified, helpless to stop the inevitable.

* * *

Methos drove back to the warehouse carefully he kept to the speed limit and did everything he could to avoid notice. He took a left into the industrial area the warehouse was located in and immediately realized something was wrong. He could see the rear of one of the towncars and a sweeper team blocking the drive. He parked on the street and got out carefully. Prentiss followed. They were unarmed, Prentiss had turned in her badge and weapon.

"Call the police, tell them whatever you need to." Methos said studying the sweeper team.

"Ben-"

He kissed her.

"I won't let them do this." He said firmly. She bit her lip and nodded then reached for her phone. Methos jogged toward the nearest team.

The simplest thing would be to break their necks and let them lie, but Jarod wouldn't like it and the cops would be after them. Instead he cracked their skulls together like cartoon characters and let them drop. He kept moving fast and quiet.

* * *

"Alright Miss Parker, you got what you wanted, I set my son up for you!" Charles shouted at the former Cleaner. Parker curved a sneer at Charles.

"Bring him out here." She barked.

Charles ducked back into the warehouse.

"Ready son?" He asked. Jarod swallowed and nodded.

They stood in the doorway.

Methos noted Parker shouting at the warehouse, Jarod's name, and then dropped the second team, the third spotted him and started to move on him. He twisted to face them as Parker shouted at the warehouse again.

"On your knees Jarod!" Parker barked.

"Show me the boy!" He demanded. She nodded at Broots. The tech scurried to the nearest Towncar and pulled the door open. Sydney emerged with the boy, he was older Jarod realized, he could see the lines of his own adult face showing in the boy's. Lyle emerged as well. Jarod's gaze narrowed and his jaw flexed.

"It's over Jarod; it's time to come home." Parker said sternly.

The sounds of Methos scuffling with the last two sweepers drew the attention of the others. Methos dropped the last man and faced Lyle and Parker.

"I think they're kidnapping someone, yes." Prentiss hissed into her cell phone. She crouched next to the first sweeper team and checked their pulses.

"Home Miss Parker? They killed your mother because she was trying to save us from them, they stole Lyle from you and your mother. What could he have been with your mother to teach and love him? The monster he is now? Did you ask them Miss Parker?" Jarod snapped. Lyle shifted so that Sydney and the boy were between him and Methos.

"Don't listen to him Parker, he's deranged, a pet out of its cage too long." Lyle sneered.

"Shut up Lyle." Parker snapped and moved to the front of the Towncar.

"Let Sydney the boy and my father go Parker and I'll go back." Jarod said softly.

"Jarod, no-" Charles objected horrified.

"They want me more than they want any of them Parker. Did you ever get an answer? Did they ever tell you why you've been chasing me all these years?" He demanded.

She glared at him.

"Call off your dog Jarod, this is over, now." She snapped and pointed her weapon at the boy.

"He's just a boy! You wouldn't." Jarod growled.

"He's a clone Jarod, your clone, we can grow a new one." She sneered, and felt sick inside.

"Don't do it Jarod." His father insisted and started to walk forward. Methos took the distraction as an opportunity to slide forward, he was almost in arm's reach of Lyle when the killer's eyes snapped back to him.

"Freeze." Lyle snapped.

"Why?"

"Because I'll shoot you in the face and kill Sydney and the boy if you don't."

Methos stopped moving forward.

Charles didn't, he rushed Parker, intent on gaining control of her weapon. Lyle twisted to draw a bead on Charles and bring him down. Methos moved in and locked the killer's elbow. All hell broke loose. Broots grabbed Sydney and the boy and the trio ran from the all the guns. Methos choked Lyle into submission and took his weapon. Lyle dropped to his knees coughing and gasping, Parker pistol whipped Charles in the face. And turned to fire on Methos, the immortal level Lyle's weapon at her and edged toward her as Lyle struggled to regain his feet, Methos paused, kicked Lyle's hands out from under him and toe kicked him in the ribcage. The killer squealed in agony and doubled over on the ground.

"Your weapon Miss Parker." Methos said icily. Parker looked at Charles, bleeding badly as Jarod helped him up, at her downed sweepers and her incapacitated brother. She thumbed the safety and placed the gun on the ground.

"Back up." Methos growled. She took a half dozen steps back and bumped into one of the town cars. Methos wasn't certain the second car was empty. He stepped forward and took her weapon, slipped it into his waistband.

"I killed you once." Parker said.

"Lot of good that did you." He said with a faint smirk. Jarod was supporting his father.

"Where'd they go Jarod?" Methos asked. Jarod jerked his head toward the alley the trio had fled down. They heard someone running toward them. Methos kept his eyes on Parker trusting Jarod to warn him.

"Agent Prentiss!" Jarod said sounding surprised.

Emily trotted up to Methos and took in the scene.

"Officers are on the way, we need to go." She said breathlessly.

"Bowman?" She asked taking in Lyle's gasping form.

"Yeah." Methos said.

"Emily, take my father, we have to find Broots and Sydney."

"They have the boy." Methos said by way of explanation.

"_The_ boy?" Prentiss asked taking Charles' arm.

Jarod nodded.

"Dad, Emily is a friend you can trust her." Jarod said Charles nodded and let Prentiss lead him back toward the rental car.

"Prentiss, we'll meet in two hours." Methos said tightly. He was furious with Lyle and Parker and wasn't going to let them slip away this time.

When Methos and Jarod first started to travel together they had set up a system of signals and meeting places, they'd taught them to Emily, or rather Jarod had on the way back to town. It wasn't complex and it wasn't written down.

"Right, be careful." Emily said.

"I'll take care of them Jarod, find them." Methos said staring at Lyle and Parker. Jarod didn't wait around he sprinted after the escaped trio. As he raced he heard a gunshot, he ignored it and kept running, some things couldn't be undone.


	20. Chapter 20

Broots and Sydney ran until the older man started to flag. The boy – Jarod's clone – Broots recalled with a shiver struggled to break away but Sydney hushed him sternly.

"Be still boy, we aren't going to hurt you, we're running away from the guns!"

"Let me go! My father needs me!" He growled. Broots was consumed by a sense of unnerving déjà vu. All the hours he'd spent watching recovered DSAs of Jarod with Sydney and Miss Parker had come to life and were standing in front of him.

"You look just like him." Broots said.

The boy glared at him.

They heard a gunshot, three heads swiveled, three faces twisted with emotion; fear, concern, anger.

"We can't run any further." Sydney said. They were in an alley between two massive brick buildings. Broots tried the doors to each but they were steel and locked soundly. They heard distant sirens and someone running.

"Get behind the dumpsters Sydney." Broots said voice shaking just slightly. Sydney pulled the boy close and crouched behind the garbage dumpster out of sight. Broots stepped in the middle of the alley and started walking toward the sirens and running steps. Jarod rounded the corner of one of the buildings and nearly ran into Broots.

"Broots where's the boy?" Jarod asked breathing hard.

"Who got shot?" Broots asked. Jarod didn't reply, just peered past Broots into the alley.

"Jarod, we heard a gunshot-"

"Where's the boy Broots?" Jarod snarled.

"He's safe! He's with Sydney! Who was shot?" Broots shouted.

"I don't know, Lyle, I think, take me to them." Jarod said gripping the shoulder of Broots jacket hard enough to lift the smaller man onto his toes. Jarod was six foot six and every inch an angry strong man. Broots took him to Sydney and the boy.

"Jarod." Sydney breathed as he stood up, the boy was half hidden behind him.

"Is he okay?" Jarod asked.

"I'm fine." The boy said stepping around Sydney.

"Good, that's good, we're going back to our father, we're getting us all out of here."

"Are we going to find Mom and Emily?" The clone asked. Jarod grinned and half laughed.

"Yes we are."

* * *

Parker crouched over Lyle. A deadly blossom of crimson stained the killer's shirt. Her manicured nails were covered in blood. As she pressed down on the wound Lyle hissed in agony.

"It's a gut shot Miss Parker, if you keep applying pressure and he gets to a hospital in the next half hour he'll live. If he doesn't… well if he doesn't _I'll _have killed him." Methos said softly. Parker stared up at him, her clear blue eyes hard and tense.

"If you take pressure off, if you let him bleed until they get here, he won't make it Miss Parker. He'll die, but _I'm_ the one that shot him." Methos said gently. He studied her face, waited for comprehension to dawn.

"Remember Parker, whatever happens, I'm the one that shot him. It's on _me_." He stood and she looked up at him, crouched over her serial killer twin as he lay dying.

"Why?" She asked, her throat constricted with emotion.

"Because sometimes we need a push to get rid of the monsters in our lives." He said softly. He slipped the stolen weapon into his waistband and jogged after Jarod.

Parker watched him go, fingers pressed against Lyle's wound.

* * *

"I can't go with you." Broots said as Jarod finished checking over Sydney and the boy.

"Debbie needs you." Jarod agreed.

"Broots you'll be punished, maybe another T-board if you let us go." Sydney said concerned.

"Smack me-" Broots said and Jarod slugged him in the jaw. Broots slid into the brick wall and onto his butt.

"Ouch." He muttered feeling his jaw.

"Sorry." Jarod said crouching next to the tech. He massaged Broots' jaw and checked his eyes for signs of concussion or worse.

"You'll be okay. Be good to Debbie." Jarod said softly. Broots nodded. The Pretender had saved Broots' life and insured he retained custody of his daughter a few years ago. Family was literally the most important thing in the world to the big man. Jarod helped Broots to his feet.

"Let's go." Sydney said. Jarod lead the duo out of the alley and onto the street.

* * *

Methos found Broots in the alley rubbing his swelling jaw.

"They went that way." Broots said and pointed toward the street. Methos nodded and hurried after them.

"I'm a cartoon character." Broots mused.

* * *

Parker stared down at her bleeding brother. He was a monster of the worst kind, a sadistic serial killer that ate his victims. But he was hers, her blood, the same mother, her baby brother.

"Parker…please." He gasped.

Ben had given her a choice. All she had to do was nothing. If she got up and checked on her sweepers he would bleed out if she just didn't press as hard…

"Please, you're my… _sister_." Lyle hissed. His eyes were bulging in pain and fear, skin paper white and gleaming with sweat. His clammy clumsy hands scrabbled at hers, pressing them to his wound.

"You're a monster Lyle. You torture, butcher, and _eat _helpless young women. You're an abomination, a mistake, an accident of birth." She hissed.

"I…didn't…have…a…chance…Bowman-"

"Beat you and abused you." She said softly.

Where did you draw the line? How much of what her stolen baby brother had become was his fault? How much was his choice? She thought of Kyle, Jarod's little brother, twisted and deranged by Raines. Even then, after all that pain and abuse he had chosen a higher road, chosen to sacrifice himself to save Jarod. Begged Jarod not to tell their parents what Raines, what the Centre, had done to him, made him into. Kyle had chosen and so had Lyle.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, tears in her eyes and pulled her hands away. Lyle hissed and scrabbled to stop her. Their bloodied hands slid apart and Lyle pressed his hands to his belly. He was too weak to apply adequate pressure. Blood gouted between his fingers, a soft gentle rush of warm thick life soaking the concrete he lay on, pooling and puddling.

The sirens grew louder.

* * *

"Sir? Are you alright?" Emily asked Charles as she negotiated traffic.

"Yes, I'll be alright, nothing is broken." Charles said, he was pressing gauze from the rental's first aid kit to his face.

"How do you know my son?" Charles asked.

"That's a long story." Prentiss said and changed lanes.

"We have a couple hours." Charles said lowering the gauze and checking his injury.

Prentiss didn't answer.

"I saw how you looked at that man, I know love when I see it young woman. I'm a friend."

"So is Jarod." She said finally.

She explained the strange series of events and dramas that had lead them to their current situation. She skipped over much and kept private things private.

"I'm glad you two are in Jarod's life, he spends too much time alone, running."

"He's one of the best men I've ever known." Emily admitted.

They had arrived at the rendezvous point. She helped Major Charles out of the car and inside.

"I have to move the car, I'll be back, don't answer the door for anyone else."

"Not even Jarod or Ben?" He asked carefully sitting down. The cut on his face would scar she decided but she didn't have the equipment to stitch it.

"He won't be here for another hour at the earliest." She pointed out and returned to the car.

* * *

Methos found the trio walking along the street as casual as could be, they hadn't made it too far. Methos drifted up behind them.

"Jarod hail a cab." He hissed as Sydney and the boy twisted away from his voice as though to run.

"It's okay, this is Ben." Jarod said calming the boy. Sydney recognized Methos but had been thinking of the lone gunshot they had all heard.

"Who was shot?" Sydney asked as Jarod flagged a cab.

"No one that matters." Methos said coldly and ushered the boy and the old man to the curb. Sydney bristled but kept quiet, they were in no position to cause a scene or have an argument.

"Did you kill him?" Sydney asked as a cab pulled over.

"I left that in Parker's hands." Methos growled and helped them into the cab.

The four were squashed into the rear of the sedan sized cab; Jarod quietly instructed the driver and they pulled into traffic.

The boy's gaze was locked on to Jarod's face as they entered the traffic flow.

* * *

Prentiss returned the car and took a bus back to the rendezvous. The nearest stop was a quarter mile from the building Charles was holed up in so she carefully walked back, hyper alert for anyone following or watching her.

She picked her way through open lots overgrown with weeds and garbage, through narrow alleys and along cracked sidewalks. No signs of life aside from a scrawny stray dog interrupted her journey. She knocked lightly on the door to the old factory they'd agreed on as their rendezvous and waited.

"Major Charles, it's me." She said softly. The door opened.

Methos was standing with his back to the door; arms folded staring out a window at the vacant lot behind the factory. Charles and the boy were sitting on a cot with Sydney on a camp chair nearby, the three were talking. Jarod had answered the door.

"What's going on?" Emily asked as she entered.

"Methos killed Lyle." Jarod said tightly.

"What? You mean Bowman?" She asked closing the door.

"I shot him." Methos said from the window.

"Dead?" She asked.

"Maybe." Methos was unapologetic.

"He was unarmed, you'd taken his weapon." Jarod growled.

"I took his gun, he was still dangerous Jarod." Methos said patiently.

"Jarod, he tortures, murders and _eats_ young women." Prentiss pointed out.

"What is our next move?" Charles asked interrupting.

"Get out of town, stay out of town, lose the Centre and find the rest of your family." Methos said robotically. Prentiss didn't like this side of him, it felt forced, wrong. He was fronting, hiding something, his own pain? Guilt over Lyle?

"How?" The boy asked.

"What's your name?" Emily asked. She wasn't sure who the child was but could see a resemblance between him and Major Charles.

The boy didn't answer.

"Jacob." Charles said. The boy looked over at him and Sydney flinched.

"For the brother of the man that raised Jarod as his own, raised him to be the good man he is." Charles said quietly. In that instant Sydney, Charles, and Jarod knew exactly where they all stood and that all wrongs had been forgiven, not forgotten but at least forgiven.

"Jacob, have you eaten?" Emily asked, not realizing that the boy had just been re-christened.

Sydney and the boy began portioning out a meal from prepackaged dried and canned foods while Prentiss, Emily and Methos gathered to plan.

"We have to get them out of here. The Centre isn't going to let them go without a fight. They know that you two are here along with Jacob and Charles. If it's your bloodline they're after they'll never get a better chance than this." Emily said.

"She's right Jarod." Methos sighed.

"We can't stay here."

"We'll eat and leave, separately." Methos said.

"Sydney and I can draw them off." Emily suggested.

"Why you two?" Methos asked. He didn't like risking her.

"Because we aren't important enough to bother keeping or killing Sydney is useful to them and I'm still a federal agent. Sydney knows Parker enough to know how she'll think and react we can use that."

"Good, then Jarod and his family can go to ground."

"What about you" Jarod asked stiffly.

"I'm the red flag and the Parkers are the bulls. If Lyle really is dead they're going to want me dead, if he's still alive they'll still want me."

"It's too risky. If they figure out your immortality-"

"There's more." Jarod said, the two looked at him, Methos annoyed and Emily resigned. Jarod told them what he'd found and Parker's blank reaction to him when he probed about the scrolls.

"That settles it we can't let them take any of you again." Methos grunted.

"What did you mean _if_ Lyle is dead?" Jarod asked sharply.

"I shot him in the gut, Parker had a choice, save him, or not I left it up to her."

"He's her brother." Jarod said accusingly.

"He's a sadistic cannibalistic serial killer Jarod, I pulled the trigger all she had to do was not stop the bleeding. The responsibility is mine."

"No, it's mine, I dragged you into this-" Jarod snapped and turned to go to the door.

"Fuck." Methos growled and rabbit punched the bigger man in the back of the head. Stunned Jarod fell to on knee.

"If you go back there we're _all finished_ and you'll _never _get back to your family." Methos snarled and dragged Jarod to his feet. "Think before you act, he's a terrible man that will _never_ face justice because he hides behind his father and the Centre. You _know_ that, that's why you sent all those clues to Parker and not the police. You knew he would wriggle out of custody; he's too handsome, educated, charming and reasonable. He convinced his father and almost convinced his sister. You _know_ this, don't make me the bad guy here Jarod."

"You set her up to kill him." Jarod spat accusingly.

"I gave her the opportunity." Methos shot back. Emily moved to separate the men as Sydney and Charles stood.

"This is madness we cannot fight amongst ourselves, that is what they want, what they need. Sit, eat and we'll discuss what is to be done." Sydney barked.

The men separated and remained warily silent while food was portioned out. Emily took a moment to clean and bandage Major Charles' injury. Jarod and he spoke quietly while Jacob and Methos ate.

"You're Jarod's friend?" Jacob asked around a mouthful of jerky.

"Yes. We've known each other for a while now."

"You've been helping him?"

"Trying to although it seems like you and your father were better at finding us than vice versa."

"You were on TV." Jacob pointed out. Methos smiled ruefully. He'd been so out of it that the TV cameras hadn't registered with him until far too late.

"Yes. I suppose that would help."

"What's he like?" Jacob asked quietly.

"Who? Jarod?"

"Yes."

"Why do you ask?" Methos asked carefully. He knew that boy was Jarod's clone but wasn't sure if the kid did.

"He's me. I mean, genetically at least, but experience plays a factor as well."

"Yeah, it does. He's a good man Jacob but he carries a terrible darkness as well. He didn't find his father until he was a grown man, didn't see the world until he was thirty. Your lives are very very different."

"I think I love him." Jacob mused.

"Well I guarantee he loves you, not just because you're, well twins, but because you're his family."

"Yeah." Jacob agreed and took a bite of jerky.

* * *

"Daddy, it's bad, they don't know if he'll make it." Parker said as her father barreled in to the hospital waiting area.

"What happened Angel?" Parker demanded as he embraced his daughter.

"Ben shot him. He was unarmed and –"

"What kind of injury? Where are his doctors?" Parker cut her off.

"He's in surgery." Parker sighed. Broots appeared at the end of the hall with two Styrofoam cups of coffee.

"Uh, h-hi Mr. Parker. I'm really sorry about Mr. Lyle." Broots stammered.

"He's a Parker Broots, Parkers are strong, fierce, he'll pull through." Parker bluffed and blew through his mustache. He was fronting, the tech didn't blame him, his son was likely dying. He remembered Parker's reaction when Miss Parker had collapsed when her ulcer ruptured.

"Uh, would you like coffee?" He offered. Both Parkers accepted. Broots beat a hasty retreat.

"Jarod for what it's worth Lyle won't stop killing because he has an epiphany or decides to try to be a better man. It's a pathological compulsion, if he's eating his victims there's no going back for him."

"You think Methos did the right thing?" Jarod challenged.

"I think that Bobby Bowman won't torture, kill, and eat any more young women." She replied, calmly dodging his question.

He studied her, soft brown eyes taking in her hard bright eyes, finally he nodded minutely. Whatever the justification, Lyle wasn't going to hurt anyone else again.

"Your family needs you now." She said gently.

"We'll meet again." Jarod replied and wrapped her in a hug. Prentiss had no doubt that she would, she returned the hug then stepped back and caught Sydney's eye. The older man nodded and she stepped out onto the porch. She would wait while he said goodbye to his surrogate son, likely forever. The Centre might not be interested in killing or imprisoning Prentiss or Sydney but that didn't mean it would be feasible or safe for either to contact Jarod again.

She sat on the porch and watched the empty street.

"Jarod, go with your father and brother –"

"Brother?" Jarod asked searching Sydney's face.

"He is your twin Jarod, just as Jacob and I were. You have years between you but the same heart, the same warmth, do for him what I could not do for you. Keep him safe and show him the world." Sydney said sadly.

"I love you." Jarod said suddenly earnest.

"And I love you, go now, be happy and safe."

Jarod hugged Sydney fiercely.

Methos stood by the door. He would walk out with Sydney and Prentiss but break away to draw Centre attention as soon as he could, in the meantime Jarod and his family would run. Methos knew in his heart that the Horseman had pulled the trigger on Lyle. He could justify and rationalize pulling that trigger for a hundred years but in the end it was that dark corner of his soul that had done it, had _enjoyed_ doing it and leaving Lyle's fate in Parker's hands. He wasn't sure if that had been a kindness or one of his crueler acts. He wasn't sure if Jarod could understand or forgive that action but he knew he would live with it. Maybe he had made Jarod a little safer or maybe he had made the situation more dire. He broke from his reverie as the door closed behind Sydney.

His turn to say goodbye.

"I'll walk out with them to the street, see them off then –"

"Be careful, keep your head." Jarod said interrupting Methos' flow. They were meaningless words, space fillers.

"I'm sorry Jarod. I didn't want to…I thought you would be safer if Lyle was dead."

"He tortured you Methos, he kills people for fun, he eats them –"

"But you still don't approve of killing him. It's not in you to do so." Methos objected.

"Maybe. I'm learning things about this world everyday Methos, and one of those is that maybe there isn't any other way to deal with some people."

"That was a lesson I hoped you would never need to learn." Methos said, surprisingly his voice cracked as he spoke.

"For every terrible thing outside the Centre's walls there are a dozen examples of beauty and joy. I've learned that too." Jarod said warmly. Methos nodded and looked down at his feet for a moment, he felt his throat tighten and eyes burn. Jarod's hand on his shoulder brought his eyes up again. The two men embraced and broke like waves on a rough sea.

"Don't get shot again, I won't be there to put you back together." Methos half joked.

"I'm a pretty good doctor myself." Jarod teased. Methos turned and walked out the door lest his courage fail.

Prentiss slipped an arm around him and the strange trio walked toward the main street.

* * *

"Mr. Parker?" The surgeon asked. Miss Parker and her father rounded on the tired looking woman. She had short dark hair, piercing brown eyes and a plain face, her voice was oddly melodic.

"Yes, how's my boy doctor?" Parker growled.

"He's in bad shape. The bullet missed his liver but hit his spleen and ruptured his large intestine. He's stable for now but between the blood loss and the risk of infection he's not out of the woods yet. He'll be transferred to the ICU from recovery and we'll see how things go."

"But he's okay for now?" Miss Parker asked.

"He's stable." The surgeon confirmed. Mr. Parker let out au relieved breath but Miss Parker kept pacing. She had actively tried to kill Lyle at least once so why did this matter? She shook off her discomfort.

"Daddy I'm going to see if there's any word on Jarod." She said and walked toward the reception area and the exit.

"Angel." Parker said freezing his daughter in her tracks.

"Yes Daddy?"

"Find out about that sonofabitch Ben too. No one does this to a Parker and gets away with it." He growled.

"Of course Daddy." She said hoping she didn't look as ashen as she felt.

If he knew what she had done would she still be his little angel? Would he still consider her a Parker?

Methos studied the Hospital. He knew from the schematics he'd located online that the operating theaters and ICU were on the same floor – 3, and that a state of the art waiting area was located there as well. He pulled a pre-paid cellphone out of his pocket. His secured smartphone had been left with Prentiss.

"Miss Parker. Meet me in the parking lot." He said and hung up. He waited two minutes then walked into the main parking area, found a suitably dark corner and waited.

The immortal spotted her trim silhouette a few seconds later, she held a naked weapon in one hand and a flashlight in the other. As she entered the dark parking area she raised them using the hand holding the flashlight to support the weapon.

"Where are you?" She snarled.

"Right here Miss Parker. How is your brother?" He asked lightly. He already knew he'd called the ICU desk and asked for Lyle's status.

"Alive. No thanks to you."

"Or you?" He asked carefully.

"Why did you give me that choice?" She asked no edge in her voice, dangerously vulnerable, her weapon was steady as she kept it leveled at Methos.

"Because no one gave me a choice like that." That wasn't the answer he'd planned. He'd meant to tell her that it was a ploy to keep her busy which it had been, in part at least.

Parker was silent and still. What had he meant by that?

"You're coming with me." She hissed.

"No, I'm not. I came here to talk to you."

"What makes you think I'll listen?"

"Because you haven't shot me yet, and unless I'm mistaken you made a choice to let your twisted serial killer baby brother bleed out. Or was I wrong on that?"

Parker made a small involuntary noise. Methos heard the soft click of the safety being turned off on her weapon, the flashlight dipped slightly with the movement.

"We don't need to be enemies." He said carefully.

"Do you want to exchange Christmas cards? Write each other long letters? I'm not your friend." She snarled.

"No, you're not, but we don't have to be enemies. Your brother tortured me, imprisoned me. He did things to me that would kill a normal person. That's not the terrible thing Miss Parker, the terrible thing of it is this, he was good at it. He'd done it _before_."

The flashlight quivered again.

"You're a good person Parker. I can guess at the things you've had to do for the Centre. I know some of what they've done to you. Yet here you are, alone in a dangerous position while your father dotes on a monster you shared a womb with, your mother lies dead and buried murdered to protect a secret. The secret at the heart of the Centre, Jarod, and you, you're so willing to bring him back, to chain him and let Lyle or Raines do what they like to him, why?"

"To stay alive." She said half choking.

Methos was quiet for a few seconds.

"No. You can run, you can join us and we could find out the truth, finally. But you would have to trust us. Admit that your father is not the hero, not the good man you loved all those years, that he _never_ was. That's harder for you to do than to admit that maybe Jarod's right and you've dedicated your life to a horror."

More bobbling of the light, faint and slight but as good as a scream.

"Stop fighting us Miss Parker. Put your weapon away and come with me. Help me fix some of the terrible damage the Centre has caused. Step up and be your mother's daughter."


	21. Chapter 21

Some decisions are almost foregone conclusions. A gentle nudge and an automatic response answers them. Some decisions take hours, days, weeks of careful thought and discussion. Some are made because the alternative is unbearable.

Parker stared at the man in front of her. He was tall, lean as a winter starved wolf, his clothing hung loose in all the wrong places, his cheekbones pressed to his flesh like blades, eyes sunk in their sockets glittering and dark. His hair was longer than she remembered, long enough to hang over his eyes, unruly and dark. He shifted and tossed his head back, a reflexive action to free his vision. The line of his jaw rippled, she could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

She slipped the handgun into her rear waistband and folded her arms over her chest, cocked her hip and stared at him.

"What now?" She demanded.

"Now everything changes."

* * *

Lyle drifted back to life gradually. At first it was noises, he would hear the soft swish of sneakers on tile, the rattling hiss of a clipboard being lifted, the scrape and grind of pen on paper. The soft click and hiss as buttons were pushed, uniforms scraped along thin cotton sheets. Once he thought he heard his father's voice. Not Parker, but Bowman. The man that had beaten and imprisoned him for most of his childhood until he'd turned the tables and framed the man for Lyle's murder.

After sometime – he couldn't say how much, his temporal sense was still absent – smell returned; the sharp nose wrinkling scent of iodine, the lingering tang of old bleach, and perfume familiar but foreign. The perfume lingered clinging, urging his memory, teasing him with some important but locked knowledge.

Finally he opened his eyes. Everything was blurred and fuzzy at first. Shapes were amorphous blobs without hard edges. After awhile his vision settled and he could see clearly. He was in the hospital. He tried to remember how he'd been hurt, what had happened.

Lyle remembered Ben, remembered being disarmed…then what?

"You're awake." The nurse sounded surprised. He was young and nervous.

"Where…"

"You're okay sir, you're in the hospital. You've been unconscious for a few days. I'll get your doctor and family."

"Shot." Lyle grunted. He'd been shot, by Ben, but…something else. Something digging and worrying at the back of his mind, something unspoken but vital.

He drifted back to sleep. A gentle pressure on his shoulder brought him round. His father's pale concerned face loomed over his.

"Dad." Lyle croaked. Parker grinned and straightened.

"I told them you'd be fine son." Parker said proudly.

"Ben?" Lyle asked.

"Sonofabitch is in the wind. I've got your sister after him and Jarod. We'll find them son, he'll pay. They're going to learn it takes more than a bullet to kill a Parker."

Lyle drifted off again. When he woke the next time he was in a different room. Spacious, well appointed, fresh flowers on the windowsill, soft blankets, smooth high thread count sheets. He was sitting up slightly. A call button lay on the bed near his hand. He pressed the button and winced as a fresh wave of discomfort, gnawing burning pain, washed up from his gut.

"Yes Mr. Lyle? How may I help you?" A petite young Asian woman asked as she entered. Lyle licked his lips and studied her closely.

"Where's my father?" He asked hoarsely. The nurse strode over to a small corner table and picked up a pitcher of water, a glass, and a straw. She filled the glass and brought it to Lyle. She helped him sip a small amount.

"He has left instructions Mr. Lyle. I am to assist you as needed until his return."

"Has my sister been here?"

"She stopped in earlier. You were asleep. She did not wish to wake you."

"What is my condition?"

"You were shot in the lower abdomen. Your spleen was removed and a portion of your large intestine. You will need a modified diet in future but your prognosis is very good."

"When can I get on my feet?"

"At least a week. You are being held together by stitches Mr. Lyle, you must be careful."

Lyle ground his teeth and pressed a second button on the control for morphine.

* * *

Methos studied Parker's profile in a mirrored wall of the train station. She was beautiful, undoubtedly. He liked that she hadn't had any surgery, that her nose, slightly large and angular was natural, it enhanced her beauty. Her crystal clear blue eyes rimmed with darkest blue were piercing and invasive when she was angry.

"You're relentless." Methos said, breaking the silence.

They were sitting back to back on double benches.

"That's what they pay me for." She growled.

"I heard your baby brother woke up."

Parker actually hissed.

"That is a very dangerous topic for you slim. " She said icily.

"I'm the one that shot him Parker, he's going to go after me regardless."

Parker was silent.

"Are you ready to bring down the Centre?" He asked finally.

"I'm listening."

"Find out whatever you can about the scrolls Jarod mentioned. They're the key, the final secret. Jarod himself is what they want. They have Pretenders, have had for a while now I think. But why would they clone Jarod? Certainly he's the best Pretender they've had but it goes beyond that."

"Very well, if you insist. But this won't last much longer stretch, I'm being watched."

"I know. I'm using it."

"You set me up?"

"They set you up. I just took advantage of it."

"I'll have to take you in."

"You have to _try_, hard."

As he finished speaking he rose to his feet and twisted to run for the exit. Parker rose a split second later and drew her weapon. Methos was already off she hissed an insult and raced after him.

He slipped through the milling commuter crowd and down a narrow hallway labeled with exit and restroom signs. She hurried after him joined by two unfamiliar sweepers, almost certainly the men Methos had spotted.

"You two check the exit." She growled and kicked in the door to the men's restroom.

She did a fast thorough sweep and then moved to the women's she glanced back at the crowded waiting area and saw him. He was standing at the end of the hall grinning at her. He pointed at his watch and gave her a little wave then vanished into the mass of commuters. Parker hurried after him. Pointlessly, the tall immortal had vanished. Parker scowled and holstered her weapon. The sweepers caught up to her.

"He's gone." She growled and faced the two sweepers.

"You blew my cover, this is on you." She snapped and swept toward the main exit. The sweepers hurried to catch up.

* * *

Methos caught his breath and watched Parker and the sweepers leave the station. He was hiding in the doorway of a closed pawn shop. He waited for fifteen minutes after they left before moving to catch a bus and make his escape final.

The scrolls were the key, he knew it. Whatever they were, whatever was in them could be the key to setting Jarod and his family free and ending the Centre's reign forever. Of course the flip side was the information could destroy them too. He had to find them, read them, _before_ Jarod did.

* * *

"Okay tall and sexy, here's what I've got for you. The Centre was founded in the late 1800s by an Angus Parker. Control of the corporation is held by three groups. One group is out of Africa, the other appears to be the current Parker family and the third is a silent publicly traded trust. "

"Silent?"

"Yeah their votes are held almost equally by the Parker's and the African faction, with the African faction holding a two percent lead."

"May as well be another third lead."

"Precisely. In the past twenty-five years every time a vote has been tied the African faction has won. Now, there _is _a clause in the founding charter, very hard to find not very well published at all that states that this year a quorum vote is to be held wherein the voting rights of all parties will be reallocated."

"What?"

"Yes."

"Why the hell would they do that?"

"Search me sugar pants but it's in black and white."

"Can you send me a copy?"

"Already done darling."

"Thanks Garcia."

"Always."

Methos chewed his lip and stared at his phone for a few seconds. Why this year? And why force a quorum vote to re-allocate voting power? It was ridiculous. Clearly the majority group would vote to maintain its majority. Why build in such a power play? Did the original Parker anticipate his kin losing their majority? Had they ever _had_ a majority?

He sucked his teeth and tapped his phone against his leg. How had the Africans gotten involved? That could be the key, why would Angus Parker have needed them?

Instead of answers Garcia had uncovered more questions.

* * *

"Sydney I didn't ask the psycho to explain himself, he wants to know about the scrolls, so do I."

"So do we all Miss Parker but we don't even know where to begin." Sydney sighed.

"They're scrolls Syd, they're old, start at the beginning."

"Of the Centre?"

"No, of all time Syd." Parker snarled.

* * *

Prentiss sighed and snuggled closer to Methos. He held her against his chest, spooning. He laughed softly, a low rough chuckling noise and pulled her close.

"Watch the hands pal." She muttered sleepily.

"Agent Prentiss I am shocked." He growled and kissed her neck.

"You're like a teenager!" She snorted and turned into his kisses.

He pulled away after a few minutes and looked at her, drank her in.

"Memorizing me?" She asked after a few seconds. A shadow flickered across his face. He hid it with a grin and a joke.

"Nah I'll just take a photo." He crooned and moved to kiss her. She shied away, sat up, stared down at him. He looked confused.

"You were, you were memorizing me." It wasn't an accusation just a statement of fact.

His face clouded, jaw flexed, eyes dropped and looked away.

"Why?" She asked softly, she stretched a hand out to him, fingertips pressed to his cheek turning his gaze back to her. His changeling eyes looked brown in the dim light of her bedroom.

He didn't answer at first, then slid down so he lay flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"I've been married 68 times." He said. His voice was calm, as though he were lecturing a classroom. Now Prentiss studied him. She tried to comprehend what that meant.

"Not all were for love, some were for status, some because it was expected but … Immortals have eidetic memories." He said abruptly.

"Like Reid." She agreed.

"I don't remember most of them. Not even their names. I see faces sometimes when I dream and I … I don't know who they are, I don't know if they're people I killed, people I fucked, or figments. I don't want you to become another face Prentiss." His voice faltered and choked.

She slipped under the blanket pressed her warm body against his and rested her cheek on his chest. For a moment she listened to his breathing and heartbeat. She sat up and stared down at him.

"Leave your memory to me." She grinned.

Hours later Prentiss slept soundly at Methos' side while he thought. He held her close with his right arm, left hand idly stroking her shoulder. She sighed and shifted against him in her sleep.

He thought of Alexa, of the women and men before her. Of love and loss, pain and the bright joy of love. He looked at Prentiss, calm and innocent in sleep, well, relatively innocent. She had her secrets. He had watched her move in a crises, noted her pinpoint accuracy with her sidearm, and had fought at her side. She was more than a federal agent. She was more chameleon and soldier than the other agents but he wouldn't pry. If her past was something she wanted him to know she would tell him. He didn't care about it, he cared about _her_. Of all people he knew the value of a secret.

* * *

"Penelope, I can't just let you-"

"Kevin, I love you, but if you try to keep me from hacking the FCC and finding out what I need to know to help my family you are going to be one very sad and very lonely nerd!" Garcia snapped.

"I was going to say that I just can't let you use that chair, it's got terrible lumbar support." Kevin snorted with a wicked and knowing grin.

"Oh…oh uh..thank you." Garcia mumbled reddening. Kevin grinned at her discomfiture and wheeled a luxurious looking computer chair toward her.

"I'd help you more –"

"We both can't go to jail Kevin. Someone has to feed my fish." Garcia said primly.

* * *

"Any news from Prentiss?" Morgan asked Rossi.

"Not a peep." Rossi sighed.

"It's not right, hanging Garcia out to dry like that and letting Prentiss walk into that mess."

"She's doing it for love." Rossi said.

"So why aren't we backing her play?" Morgan asked. The big agent had been in an agony of duty since Prentiss left. He knew helping her, helping Jarod and Methos was the right thing to do, but the cost of it…

"They don't need us wrecking our careers." Rossi growled.

"We can't just stand here and let Prentiss –"

"What? What Morgan? Live her life? She knew her options and she made a decision. She loves that guy and is willing to do what she has to in order to keep him."

"Bullshit Rossi, the Centre is evil, we fight evil every day. So we're just going to turn our backs on that cesspit?"

"It's not our fight Morgan. Garcia and Prentiss knew what they were doing they chose the consequences. Our place is here hunting down and capturing _these_ evil people. When the time comes that we can take action against the Centre we will. "

"It's not right Rossi." Morgan sighed.

"Not many things are." Rossi agreed.

* * *

When Prentiss woke Methos was gone. She sighed and sat up. He rarely stayed long. She knew he had to keep moving. The Centre had made him as wanted as Jarod only they didn't care if they caught Methos alive. Still, it hurt to wake to an empty bed.

She was making coffee when she spotted his letter.

_Prentiss, I love you. I want more for you, for us. I won't be back until we can have it._

_M_

She ground her teeth and crushed the letter. A single tear soaked the crumpled paper as she threw it on the counter.

* * *

The island had a dark reputation. No, dark wasn't accurate, its reputation was evil. Jarod shrugged his heavy wool coat close and blinked as sea spray broke over the small boat misting its passengers. He shivered and the steersman glanced back resentfully at Jarod.

"Yer mad mister. Nought but evil on those rocks." The man muttered for the dozenth time. Jarod flexed his jaw but dismissed his annoyance. The man was probably right.

"I understand but I have to go." He explained yet again.

"Yer think yer family is on there?"

"Maybe, maybe just a clue."

"Trust me boy, if yer family has ought to do with that vile place then yer better off not knowin' em."

"No. No one is better off not knowing." Jarod murmured sadly.

The island loomed large on the horizon.

* * *

"Just trust me on this Ben! It's a crappy little Island off the Scottish coast; Jarod and Parker are heading there."

"You're certain?"

"Yes, look _the_ Parker hails from there. I dug up what I could from the info you gave me, Angus Parker immigrated to the U.S. from that awful little Island before founding the Centre. Trust me; whatever's going down is going to happen there in the next fourteen hours. Get your butt moving slim there's a major weather system moving in."

"Thank you Garcia, I'll make sure you're clear of this."

"Relax cutie they love me too much to get rid of me."

"I'll make sure of it." He said firmly.

He slipped his phone into his pocket and looked up at Prentiss' apartment building. It had been almost a month since the last time they'd been together. He wanted to walk into say something, anything to fix what he'd done.

She hadn't gone back to work. The Centre sweepers still lurked, watching her. Sydney had voluntarily returned to the Centre two weeks ago. Parker had done what she could to transition the old man back into the trusted heart of the Centre. Well, Parker's heart of the Centre at least.

Now he had another choice. Stay here, try to reach Prentiss, beg forgiveness and forge some kind of life. Or go, finish the task he'd set himself when he first saved Jarod's life. Reunite the Pretender with his family and shut the Centre down forever. His chest ached when he thought of Prentiss and the pain he'd caused her. He'd been a fool. He realized it now. He wondered how it was he could be so very old and still so stupid.

"Are you going to stand there and get rained on or come in?" Her voice cut like broken glass. He took a sharp, pained, half hopeful breath and turned toward her.

She looked hurt, angry, and relieved.

"I thought you were dead." She said voice tight and strained.

"I'm…I'm sorry." He said finally. No explanation would be adequate or worthy.

"You never even asked me what I wanted, how I felt, you just assumed you knew best. Well fuck that and fuck you. I'm an adult woman Methos and I get a choice. You don't decide for me. I agreed to start this knowing what we have can never be a picket fence and two point five kids. How dare you?" She demanded.

He just looked at her for a few seconds.

"I'm old Prentiss but I'm not perfect, I'm not especially wise. I'm just a man and I hurt you and I'm …I'm sorry, I was wrong and it was…cruel." He babbled.

She kissed him, hard and angry and rough and perfect.

"I can't stay, I have to go." He said holding her.

"Where?" she demanded.

"An island off the coast of Scotland."

"I'm going with you."

"Prentiss-"

"Now _you_ don't get a choice." She said firmly and kissed him again.

* * *

"You're positive?" Lyle asked quietly.

"Yes sir. Miss Parker left an hour ago." Willy reported solemnly.

"Tell my father." Lyle said rising from his desk and reaching for his phone.

"Right away Mr. Lyle." Willy said with a feral grin, as the sweeper walked to the door he reflexively massaged the scar on his scalp.

* * *

The boatman dropped Jarod at the dock and gave him one last warning.

"I'll be here fer n'hour, no more, ye find what ye need come on back down and I'll take ye home. This is an evil place, no good can come of it."

Jarod studied the sailor. The man was over forty but probably under sixty. His hair was grizzled, he wore leather and wool and had the sharp keen gaze of a man used to shifting tides and changing seas. He wasn't sure what the man's accent was, it shifted and ranged all over.

"Thank you but I have to be here. I have to know." He said finally. The sailor grunted and shrugged his dark wool peacoat closer.

"I'll be here, an hour." He said finally. Jarod nodded and walked up the dock toward the stone town perched on thinly wooded hills ahead of him. Somewhere out there he hoped to find his mother.

His father and…Jacob had found his sister Emily. The three were safe, Jarod didn't know where. He could contact them and would once he found his mother but knowing they were safe and free was enough for now. At least that was what he told himself when he was alone, at night, with only the soft sounds of a sleeping world and his own loneliness for company.

Methos kept offering to help him. To defend and protect him, though he wouldn't say so explicitly. No, Methos would offer warnings, advice, voice concerns but he would never actually say that he wanted to protect Jarod. Though he had, from the moment they'd shared a coffee on the mall to the last time Jarod had seen the wolfish immortal. But this was something that only Jarod could do, the risk, the pain, the reward was his alone to bare. Whatever crimes Methos was trying to atone for, this could not be part of that atonement. It was Jarod's alone.

He stepped off the dock and onto the island. A shiver crawled along his spine as his boot scraped onto the thin rocky soil of the shore. He looked up at the town, bells ringing and trees tossing their limbs like angry horses as the incoming storm drew closer, a shiver unrelated to the weather followed the first. A dull sense of foreboding settled in his guts. He shifted the bag on his shoulder and started up the narrow crooked path to the town. As he glanced back toward the boat he saw an old woman clutching a shawl over her head.

He blinked and she was gone. He frowned and kept moving up the path. His guts churned, his instincts screamed at him to run. Part of him gibbered scientific facts about the storm, it's electrical field, the instinctive reaction to flee. He shut that part out, ignored it, and focused on getting to the town, finding his mother.

* * *

Parker frowned down at the little island.

"Miss Parker, we won't be able to come back for at least 24 hours and we can't leave the chopper exposed here, the storm will destroy it, the island is being evacuated –"

"I'm not leaving without Jarod, land the chopper." Parker hissed, the pilot's mouth thinned into an annoyed line and he maneuvered the agile aircraft for a rough landing.

* * *

"Methos we can still go back." Prentiss said softly.

He stiffened and glanced down at her. He was steering their rented boat, brow furrowed in concentration. She sat below and behind him, huddling out of the wind. The little fishing trawler's diesel engine chugged and wheezed against the strong sea.

Methos didn't answer. Prentiss sighed and huddled lower in the boat. He hadn't spoken much since they'd embarked on this mad journey. What was there to say? He was willing to risk both of their lives to help Jarod? She hadn't said it, wouldn't say it and he knew that but the knowledge was there. Like an impassable chasm between them. He was choosing Jarod over them, over her.

She hated feeling the sour jealousy and resentment she did. She'd known from the get-go that Methos felt compelled to assist Jarod. She'd _known_ but when the time had come she resented it. She bit her lip and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, looked up at Methos – still too thin and pale – and back at the roiling sea. Maybe the boat would capsize and the issue would be moot.

* * *

Jarod hurried, he stopped everyone he could and showed them the battered photo of his mother desperate for any help. No one answered; he raced toward the cathedral that made the island famous. He stopped a robed monk and showed him the photo, the man looked frightened, the storm was fast approaching, wind strong enough to tear the man's words from his mouth. He shouted a negative and raced toward the docks. Jarod tried to catch his arm but the monk was too fast.

Frustrated and desperate he looked around for anyone that could help. A bolt of lightning struck the monastery, in the flash of light he spotted the same old woman from the docks. She turned away, slipped through a wooden gate in a stone wall and was gone. Jarod sprinted after her.

He slammed through the gate, the wooden structure bounced off the stone wall and struck the Pretender the shoulder, he ignored the impact and pain and looked for the woman. He spotted a flicker of movement and raced after her.

He lost her in the next street. He was alone, all the residents had either fled to the docks or were hiding from the storm and him. He jogged to the nearest door, a solid ancient wooden door bound in iron, and banged on it. The wind picked up and a hard frigid rain started to fall. He bit his lip and tried the next door, no luck, he worked his way down the street until the rain was lashing and clawing at him with all the malice of an angry human and he was half blind and shivering. He tripped and caught himself on the same stone wall he'd passed through minutes before. As he straightened he saw a flash of movement again.

His gaze followed the movement to a half hidden doorway, a bolt of lightning lit up the sky again and he spotted a sign hanging near the door, it read something like Ocee. He raced toward it. Jarod knew he needed shelter or he may not survive the night. Already, he was shivering uncontrollably, the rain and wind had chewed through his warm woolen clothing.

He slipped on the stone walkway in front of the door and crashed into it. He heard a cry and a gun shot, he snatched at the door handle and managed to pry it open. The strength of the wind and rain nearly propelled him inside. He struggled to shut the door and twisted to face the interior.

It was a cramped building, warm and neatly appointed. As old as anything else on the island. He walked forward cautiously, if he had heard a gunshot he could be walking into a firefight. A smear of blood on the door frame indicated he that he had heard a shot. He entered the next room carefully and found an old woman lying on the ground. She didn't seem to be bleeding.

Jarod tossed his sodden duffel bag aside and knelt next to the woman. Her shawl hid her features. He checked her pulse and gently rolled her on to her back. The woman was alive, apparently stunned. As Jarod gently examined her for broken bones or other injury she came to.

"Whose manhandling old Ocee then?" She muttered, her eyes fluttered open revealing milky sightless orbs.

"My name is Jarod, are you hurt?"

"Not as badly as you are boy." She muttered as Jarod helped her to her feet.

"I'm not hurt." He said.

"Old Ocee knows more than most think. When my eyes failed the rest of me got sharper." She chuckled.

"There's blood here, was someone hurt?" Jarod asked assisting the old woman to a nearby chair. She ran a hand over herself as though doing an inventory.

"She ran that way, heard a shot –" Ocee grunted gesturing toward the blood smeared doorway.

"Who ran that way?" Jarod asked.

"Why, your mother did boy."

* * *

They barely made it to shore before the storm hit the tiny island and all hell broke loose. Methos pulled Prentiss close and the two raced up the dock toward the nearest structure – a boathouse. Methos hauled on the handle to the door but it was firmly locked.

"We'll have to try the town!" Prentiss shouted. Methos' jaw was set in a grimace but he nodded. The two clung to one another as they staggered up the crooked path, the wind batted at them like a playful kitten. Twice the wind and rain forced them to stop and take the beating until it let up enough for them to move forward. Prentiss crested the path and entered the town first; she looked behind her and reached for Methos as he followed.

The immortal took her hand in his and together they entered the cursed little town.

* * *

Parker was cursing Jarod, her father, the Centre, Lyle, and even her mother for her current predicament. She had seen no sign of Jarod but ample signs that the island had been abandoned en masse by the vast majority of its inhabitants. She hadn't seen a sign of life since the storm broke.

She staggered and clutched at the mortar and stone façade of a house. Her fingers scraped the cold wet stone, sharp pain reminding her she was alive and real, she shivered violently and straightened. Leaning against the house she tried to see through the storm. A wooden sign was waggling and dancing in the rain, she felt drawn to it. It hung above a small wooden door bound in iron, like all the other doors on the island. She staggered across the street and struggled to open the door.

* * *

"You know my mother?" Jarod asked, his tone was harsh, almost strangled, hope warred with fear as his eyes drifted to the bloodstain.

"Yes, she's fine boy, she ran. She's stayed alive all these years using her brain and her feet. Like you." Ocee said and laughed cheerfully.

"Please, I need to find her, please."

"You need to get out of those wet things boy, you won't be going anywhere until this storm passes." Ocee tutted and shuffled to a merrily crackling fire in her hearth.

The door to Ocee's house flung open and someone rushed in. Jarod moved to intercept the stranger, to protect Ocee.

"Close the door girl you're letting the storm in!" Ocee squawked in annoyance. The stranger shut the door and turned back to face Ocee and Jarod.

"Miss Parker." Jarod said quietly. He wasn't surprised to see her.

* * *

Methos and Emily went for the cathedral. Methos tried the main doors and was unsurprised to find them locked. Prentiss took his hand and they rounded the building searching for any way in. The rain was horizontal now, propelled by the savage wind. Nearly blind Prentiss felt along the stone until her hand brushed waterlogged wood. She shielded her eyes. It was a door. She felt for a handle and found an iron ring, wrapping both hands around it she pulled as hard as she could. The door stuck for a moment and hung, Methos added his weight and strength to Emily's and the door gave way. They staggered inside the cathedral leaving the door open.

Wind and rain swept in with them, candles near the altar flickered violently and then went out plunging the couple into lightning torn darkness. Methos reached for Prentiss, her hand felt icy in his as he gripped it and pulled her forward with him. The raging storm outside obscured the sounds of their steps on the cold stone floor. Methos hurried past the darkened altar and further into the building.


	22. Chapter 22

**_A/N I ripped some dialogue directly from Island of the Haunted toward the end. I didn't see how I could write it better, I did tweak it and the situation it occurs in but yeah, I stole it. I figure there's only a few more chapters to this'n till we reach the end. I encourage you fine folks to review to your hearts content, maybe suggest how you'd like to see things sort at the end. I have two options in mind, I'll likely tack one on here and then throw the opposite up as a mini/epilogue/separate fic shortly thereafter. As always this initial version is a hair rough and created on minimal sleep (my muse doesn't like sleep evidently) so there may be some issues. Feel free to msg/review if you spot any and I'll fix 'em asap. Happy reading to the faithful!_**

Methos found a flashlight and several blankets in a locked closet. He'd forced the lock open and rummaged through efficiently while Prentiss took a look around for any signs of life.

"They were here recently, must have caught the last boat out."

"I did some research on this order of monks, they're the only group of them."

"So they aren't Jesuits or Benedcitines?" Prentiss asked moving the flashlight over the stained glass windows. She caught glimpses of an unfamiliar story in the images on glass.

"Yes they're dedicated to the discovery and safeguarding of a set of scrolls." He grunted while hauling the blankets out of the closet. He walked to Prentiss and wrapped one blanket around her shoulders. She flashed a smile at him and turned away from the windows. Her flashlight beam whipped across the windows as she turned.

He caught a glimpse of a symbol. Taking her wrist he guided the light back along its path and stopped at the symbol. Methos frowned, it was familiar but he couldn't place it.

"Find a clue?" Prentiss asked.

"Maybe." Methos said softly, a crash of thunder followed quickly by neon lightning cut his thoughts short.

* * *

Parker stared at Jarod. She was still rattled from the storm; her senses on overload and numbed simultaneously. Shivering she glanced away from her quarry to the blind old woman hanging on his arm.

"Come in child you must be soaked through!" Ocee squawked.

Jarod watched as Ocee carefully banked a fire and got a pot of tea brewing. She disappeared and returned with several blankets and a change of clothes for Jarod and Parker.

"They should fit you neatly young man but your friend will need a belt I should think." Old Ocee cackled and shuffled out of the room again. Jarod watched Parker.

She walked to the fire and shrugged off her sodden coat, Jarod stifled an urge to help her remove it. She was dangerous, she would see him in cuffs and back at the Centre in a heartbeat. She was an enemy he reminded himself. But he couldn't help but see the sobbing little girl he'd known, the girl that had given him his first kiss.

"Find your mother?" Parker asked after a steady silence had fallen.

"Why would I tell you?" He asked quietly.

"What do you think she's like?" Parker asked staring into the fire. Jarod frowned.

"I don't know. I hope to find out. I…I hope she's as kind as your mother was." He ventured. It was true. His whole life at the Centre, the only woman that had ever shown him any kindness or affection had been Miss Parker's mother.

"I hope so too." Parker said tiredly. Jarod picked up a towel and wrapped it around Miss Parker's shoulders. She accepted it and slowly toweled her hair until it was just damp and not dripping. Jarod watched her in the firelight. She looked exactly like her mother.

The physical resemblance had always been there, they could have been twins separated by twenty some years. The same crystal clear blue eyes rimmed in indigo, the same strong jaw and distinctive nose but where her mother had been kind and gentle Miss Parker was cold, hard, and ruthless. The Centre had done that to her, Jarod knew, just as it had robbed Jarod of his family and childhood it had robbed Miss Parker of her innocence and humanity.

"Why do you do it?" He asked. He was leaning against the doorjamb opposite the bloodstain. Ocee hadn't said if that blood was his mother's or her attacker's. He stared at it as Parker replied.

"Now? Now I do it because if I fail I'll die."

"Why don't you join me? Help me? Or just leave me alone? You know what they are they've hurt you too."

"I already have." She confessed. He frowned at her. She turned away from the fire and faced him. The warm light softened and warmed her face. Jarod studied her not responding.

"I've been working with your friend Ben. He told me about the scrolls. The Centre put a tail on me so I had to try to catch Ben. I lost contact with him but the Centre picked up your trail, anticipated you would be here so here I am." She said quietly not looking at him.

"You turned on the Centre?"

She looked up at him, cold clear eyes reflecting fire and shadow.

"Ben made me think about some things, he…he let me make a choice. I can't do this anymore Jarod, I can't hunt you knowing what Lyle is, what Brigitte did on Centre orders. I lost Thomas because they needed me, to hunt you, to be the weapon they made me into." There were tears in her eyes now.

He moved to her without thinking; put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm tired of hunting you, tired of being a tool. I had one person that loved me, he knew me better than I knew myself and they murdered him to keep me."

"You don't have to be that person anymore Miss Parker." He said gently. She looked up at him eye brimming with pained tears he leaned over her, moved toward her, she twisted against him accepting him moving to kiss him -

"Now this will warm you two up nicely." Ocee barked barging into the room, shouldering the two apart and leaning over the fire to retrieve the tea pot. Jarod's thoughts whirled, his heart was racing.

Could he trust Parker? Did he have a choice? What had Methos done to her? He felt a queer mixture of anger, revulsion, and curiosity when he thought of Methos forcing Parker into a choice that would make her turn her back on her father. It wasn't the Centre she was loyal to, or even her own life necessarily, it was him.

Ocee scooped the pot off of the fire and set it down on a nearby table. She carefully poured the tea into three mugs and handed them to her guests. She took the third for herself and carefully sat down.

"You're still sopping boy! Get changed before you catch your death." Ocee insisted. Jarod picked up the bundle of clothing Ocee had found for him and moved to the next room to change. He could hear Parker and Ocee speaking in low hushed voices while he stripped off his sodden clothing.

He ran a towel over his hair before slipping on the dry clothing. To his surprise the clothing fit perfectly, as Ocee had suggested. He felt better as soon as the warm clothing was in place, a thick wool sweater over a thinner shirt, sturdy work pants, boots with wool socks and a wool watch cap. He knocked on the doorjamb before returning to the fire. Ocee urged him to enter.

Parker was dressed similarly to him though her boots were smaller. Her pant legs and sweater cuffs were rolled up but she still looked like a girl wearing her father's clothes. He remembered her soft lips on his when they were children, too young to know the power of a kiss but old enough to be curious. He felt a sharp ache in his chest, sour and cold.

"Come in here boy." Ocee repeated. Jarod did, he moved mechanically and stood by the fire. Parker was sitting at the table where Ocee had poured the tea. She drummed her fingers impatiently and looked up at Jarod and Ocee.

"We need to find your mother and get off this island before my father sends a sweeper team after us."

"Won't be no one comin' here till after the storm child." Ocee tutted pouring more tea.

"Ocee what happened here? Where did my mother go?" Jarod asked forcing his mind and heart back on track.

"That nasty monk was chasin' her, she got away though, always does your mother." Ocee muttered nodding to herself.

"What monk?" Parker asked.

"One 'o them bad ones." Ocee said unhelpfully.

* * *

Methos studied the rest of the windows with Prenitss' help. He mulled over the images. A knight with a pair of scrolls, some kind of disaster, what appeared to be a pilgrimage or flight and finally what had to be an image of the island.

"I don't recognize this iconography." Prentiss said studying the windows with Methos.

"Neither do I."

"I don't think this order has much to do with the Church." Prentiss finished. Methos nodded thoughtfully.

They heard a crash from the back of the Cathedral. Methos and Prentiss tensed and raced toward the source. As they entered a separate rear section of the cathedral they saw a man in a cowl, he wore a beard and glared at them before turning and racing away toward an exit door. Methos let out a low savage noise and raced after him. Prentiss drew her sidearm and followed.

She watched Methos' disappear down a narrow stairwell; she followed at a slower pace, firearm at the ready. She could wing, even kill, Methos and he'd live but if she tripped on the stairs and dropped her weapon it could discharge and kill her just as easily. By the time she reached the end of the stairwell Methos and the monk were out of sight.

The stairwell opened into a basement area. Boxes, crates, bags and packages were piled against the walls. A stack of blankets and moth eaten bedding blocked her view of the rest of the room. She carefully moved forward and stepped around the bedding.

Methos lay on the ground, face up, arms and legs spread like a snow angel. Blood smeared his face. Lump in her throat and heart racing Prentiss walked forward carefully. The monk could have knocked Methos cold and left him in the open as bait to get the jump on her. She knelt keeping her weapon ready and reached to check Methos' pulse with one hand. She saw something move in out of the corner of her eye.

Prentiss dodged right and spun on one heel as the mound of bedding blew apart and the bearded monk lunged at her. He was holding a damn sword. It looked like a broadsword but Prentiss wasn't sure. She pin wheeled backwards dodging the monk's first lunge and squeezed off a shot. It missed the monk by a fraction but gave him pause. He backed away and glared at her.

"Put the sword down!" Prentiss snapped.

The monk lunged at her instead, a mad charge straight at her. Prentiss shot him in the heart. He dropped dead at her feet, the sword falling from nerveless fingers to clatter against the dusty stone floor. She let out a shuddering breath and move forward, kicked the sword away from the monk and checked his pulse. Satisfied he was dead she holstered her sidearm and checked on Methos.

He was already coming to when she reached him. He sat up and put a hand to his head, it came away sticky with barely congealed blood.

"You got jumped by a monk." Prentiss said as she helped him up.

"I got sloppy he jumped me at the stairs." Methos sighed. He looked past Prentiss and spotted the dead monk.

"Good shot."

"Gonna let your girlfriend do all your fighting for you?" Prentiss teased. He smiled wanly at her and straightened. She hovered at his side in case his head injury hadn't healed completely. He walked toward the monk and paused to study the sword. He crouched and picked it up, hefted it, swung it experimentally a few times and frowned.

"This is a real broadsword, at least four hundred years old, probably older."

"What is a homicidal monk doing with it on this island?" Prentiss asked. They both looked at the cooling corpse.

"Where was he running to?" Methos asked.

"Let's find out." Prentiss suggested pulling her sidearm free again. Methos kept the sword and took the lead. Their feet scraped across the dusty stone floor as they moved further into the basement, the storm raged on above their heads, long forgotten.

* * *

"Your mother's been coming here – when it's safe – for years boy. Trying to find the scrolls." Ocee rumbled as she sipped more tea.

"What scrolls?" Parker demanded.

"Scrolls of Carthis girl."

"Carthis…this island is Carthis! That doesn't tell us anything! Tell us what you know old woman." Parker hissed.

So she did.

* * *

The basement was larger than the building above. Toward the rear they found another stairwell. Methos lead the way down but was quite a bit more cautious. The lowest level ended at a flat solid wall.

"What the hell?" Prentiss breathed staring at the expanse of the wall.

Methos used his new sword to probe the wall, striking the pommel at regularly spaced intervals against the surface of the wall.

"It's solid." He grunted.

"We have to find a way past it." She insisted. He grunted in agreement.

"Backtrack see if we can find an entrance up above.

"We could be a mile or so from the cathedral –"

"We don't have any choice unless you packed plastique." He pointed out. She sighed and headed back up the stairs.

The storm had grown worse. They clung to each other and tried to use the flashlight to find an upper entrance to the subbasement. The wind was savage and cold; twice it forced them to pause and kneel before continuing on to avoid being knocked off their feet.

"This is insane! We can't keep going!" Prentiss shouted.

"I agree! Head back to the town!" Methos shouted. They clung to each other and started back. Stumbling and blinded they took nearly an hour to get back to the nearest building. They caught their breath, Prentiss held Methos' sword as he looked for a way into the building.

"No luck! They've got inch thick iron banded doors!"

"That's a lot of security for a village with less than four hundred inhabitants!" She shouted back struggling to be heard over the weather.

"There's something very wrong about this island!" He shouted. They linked arms and moved further into the village. Every building was locked down, solid doors and barred windows. They were about to return to the cathedral when Methos spotted a light. They both made for it.

"I've seen that little girl." Parker said softly. She was cradling a sketch of a young girl holding a doll.

"Where?" Ocee demanded sharply. Parker looked up from the picture at the colorless orbs of the blind woman's eyes.

"My dreams. I've had dreams about her since my mother died." Parker said quietly.

"Aye, that's the crypt keeper's daughter."

"This is insane, why would the shade of a little girl haunt Parker? What happened here?"

"Tell me what ye know of the scrolls." Ocee said turning to Jarod.

"Almost nothing, they were brought here by an order of knights devoted to protecting them. They… they supposedly have some kind of power."

"They're a conduit to the powers of hell, no good comes o'them scrolls. This island was cursed to damnation the day they were brought here. Them knights become monks, a twisted order. Oh they look jest fine to the casual eye but old Ocee's got sharper eyes than most. Ocee knows."

"Knows what? Why am I dreaming about the cryptkeeper's daughter?"

"The scrolls are evil girl!" Ocee was getting agitated.

"It's okay Ocee, can you tell us more about the scrolls? Or the little girl?" Jarod said gently.

"I can't show you more but the picture can." Ocee said firmly.

The pretender and his hunter exchanged a confused glance. Parker picked up the sketch and carefully pried away the frame holding it, she flipped over the sketch and revealed a phrase in Latin.

"I don't read Latin." She said handing it to him.

He read it silently to himself and then out loud.

"What does it mean?"

"I think it's a riddle."

* * *

Prentiss couldn't see any more, she was too tired to try to squint through the wind and rain, she clung to Methos for support focusing on staying on her feet and upright. The lean immortal held her close and doggedly guided them toward the light they'd seen. It was a small window and it looked like firelight. His legs were numb, one arm clutched Prentiss the other his sword. As his strength flagged he started to use the blade as a crutch, leaning his weight on the pommel and handle and digging the blade into the thin rocky soil for support.

The window filled his vision, his only goal, the only thing in the world, Prentiss and the window lit by fire.

* * *

"The cryptkeeper, Angus Parker, found the scrolls, stole them. They twisted his mind, filled it with visions of greatness and wealth but they demanded a price. A terrible terrible price." Ocee whispered sorrowfully. A flash of lightning blinded the trio as a roaring snarl of thunder deafened them. When their senses returned the door was opening.

A man staggered into the little room with a woman and a sword.

"Ben?" Parker mumbled half standing.

Jarod rose and helped Methos stand upright. Prentiss managed to get the door shut.

"Jarod?" Methos asked hoarsely. The big man took Methos' arm and helped him sit where Parker had been sitting. The sketch of the cryptkeeper's daughter still sat face down on the table. Prentiss slipped off her water logged coat and moved next to the fire.

"What's going on?" Parker demanded.

Methos caught his breath and watched Prentiss at the fire for a few seconds.

"We followed you." Prentiss said. Dark eyes black in the firelight. Parker scowled.

"How did you know where we were going?" She asked coldly.

"I'm not an idiot Parker, I have my own resources. I put some things together did the math and booked a flight." Methos snapped.

"Who's the hired gun?" Parker sneered at Prentiss.

"A friend." Prentiss said evenly. She was recovering from the ordeal in the storm quickly.

Methos was likewise rallying. Prentiss had been wise enough to let Methos take the brunt of the punishment from the weather and rely on him for support. He could take the abuse and recover quickly. Once again Methos wondered how and where she had learned such tactical wisdom. He wouldn't ask her, if she thought he needed to know she'd speak up. He did find it interesting that Parker had tagged her as a hired gun. Jarod didn't correct Parker or introduce Emily.

"You came after me?" Jarod asked. The Pretender wasn't sure how he felt about that. He could certainly use the immortal's help and Emily was an intelligent and skilled agent but…he shrugged it away. They were here now.

Methos didn't respond to Jarod, just focused on getting his strength and energy back. He could rally for a while but even immortals grew tired and hungry.

Ocee had been still and silent simply taking in the newcomers. She rose and walked to Methos reached out and placed her fingers on his rain wet face. She hissed and recoiled as though she'd touched a red hot poker.

"Who've you brought me boy? What is it!" She screeched at Jarod. She backpedaled away from Methos.

"It's okay Ocee he's a friend." Jarod said gently, he took the old woman by the shoulders and hushed her concerns.

"He' a friend Ocee he won't hurt you I promise you."

"He's got death on him, reeks of it." Ocee growled.

"I'm a friend to these shores and to you Old Ocee." Methos said carefully.

"Who taught you them words? What manner of creature are you?" Ocee asked her tone had edged more toward awe than fear or scorn. Methos had read the words once, in a very old book that by rights should have been burned a hundred or more years previously. That had been nearly eighty years ago.

"You're Ocee the wise, matriarch of the Isle of Carthis." Methos said quietly. Ocee shivered and pulled her woolen shawl closer.

"No outsider knows that title boy, what are you?" She asked again.

"I am your friend Ocee, I mean you no harm and ask guest price of you." Ocee hissed and then jerked her head in acknowledgement. Guest price would protect him from any treachery on her part. She would be required to provide him with safety and sustenance within reason by the ancient laws of hospitality. Methos relaxed and ran a hand over his face.

"What the hell is going on?" Parker demanded.

"Calm down child, you're raging nigh as much as the storm." Ocee grumbled. She set about making sure Prentiss and Methos were fed, warmed and dried as much as possible.

As Ocee brewed yet another batch of tea Methos spotted the sketch and the Latin on the back. He read it and flipped the sketch over. He studied the little girl as Ocee portioned out the tea.

"You said the cryptkeeper was named Angus Parker?" Parker asked carefully. Ocee grunted in acknowledgment.

"Miss Parker you don't know for sure –" Jarod tried to say.

"The man who founded the Centre was named Angus Parker." Methos interrupted. He didn't particularly wish to hurt Miss Parker but he didn't owe her any kindness and coddling her would serve no one. It was barely possible that this Parker was completely unrelated to her as Parker was an extremely common name but the odds were strongly against it.

"My great great great something or other." Parker whispered. She felt sick. Her family was founded on some kind of evil act… what were they? Was Lyle really an aberration or was she? Was she the black sheep? The only somewhat normal person from a clan of …what?

"Jarod did you read this?" Methos asked picking up the sketch again.

"Yes, I think it's a riddle." Jarod said glad for a change of subject.

"Scavenger hunt? For what?" Methos prodded.

"I'm not sure, the scrolls hopefully." Jarod sighed.

"The scrolls of Carthis." Methos muttered nodding.

"We found something that might be important." Prentiss said and explained being attacked by the mad monk and finding the sealed area.

"We should split up, half of us follow the clues the cryptkeeper's daughter left and half try to get into the sub-basement. " Jarod suggested.

"Why did she leave clues? What are they leading to?" Prentiss asked.

"Why the scrolls girl." Ocee scoffed.

"But how did she get them? You said her father had them." Parker interrupted.

"Aye, that he did, for awhile leastwise. The scrolls required a terrible price of him, but they changed him too even before he paid them. The little girl saw how her father was changing. She stole the scrolls and hid them from her father. She made up clues so they could be found again when necessary." Ocee explained.

"What happened to her?" Parker asked brokenly. Somewhere in her heart she knew the shade of the girl was only present because she had died badly.

Ocee let out a sigh and wrung her hands a bit.

"It's a sad sad tale young woman. The cryptkeeper, he went mad from the influence of the scrolls. He made the mistake of reading them, not just stealing them; he believed the scrolls required a price of him."

"What did he do?" Parker asked again. The other three were silent, watching the fire or Ocee as the old woman spoke again.

"He burned them, his whole family, he burned them alive."

Parker let out a cry and stifled it with a clenched fist held to her mouth; the other hand pressed her stomach as though she were ill. _A clan of killers_ she thought.

Methos rose, the sound of his chair scraping across Ocee's floor may as well have been a gunshot. The others jumped and glared at him.

"We have to get moving. The Centre will be here as soon as the storm lets up we need to find Jarod's mother and the scrolls before then." He said.

"Ocee when I got here you said I'd just missed her, whose blood is that?" Jarod blurted tired of being afraid of the answer.

"The monk that went for her, she dodged him but he winged her, she'll be fine boy she got away clean."

"He shot her?" Prentiss asked horrified. She thought of the mad monk she'd killed, any guilt she might've had over it evaporated.

"Where did she go Ocee?" Jarod asked sharply.

"Away boy, away from the Island, she knew you were coming, she was afraid they'd come after her to get to you."

Jarod stiffened and turned to Parker.

"She was right here. My mother was right here in front of me. And once again it's the Centre that stops us from being together."

Parker flinched at his tone, her jaw rippled and she glared at him.

"I don't understand you Parker. The Centre wants us to believe that finding the truth is a mistake, that looking for answers about who we really are is futile and finding any kind of... connection outside their control is wrong. I know you don't want to hear this but you can feel it. You've been a Centre prisoner all these years just like me. And with every discovery you find you're every bit the outcast. Just like me. So why are you helping them? Why are you _still_ hunting me?"

"I'm not Jarod, I haven't been for weeks."

"Why? Because Ben tricked you?"

She looked away from Jarod, eyes flickering to Methos. The immortal frowned at her.

"He didn't have to trick me; he just had to show me a way out and make sure it was the only way left." She said softly and then laughed. She wiped at her eye as thought to banish a tear, "Why is it that the one person that I've been trained to distrust, to hate, to capture is always with me during the most difficult moments of my life?" She asked hollowly.

"Maybe, it's supposed to be that way." Jarod said softly.


	23. Chapter 23

Weary, wet, heart sore and racing against the storm the quartet set out. They stayed together. Prentiss was relieved by that. She knew Methos cared for her but the cold analytical part of her that was so very good at cutting through an UNSUB's defenses wondered if he could truly love after all this time. Wouldn't it become mundane at some point?

Methos had told her that he had forgotten the faces and names of lovers, was as haunted by that loss as he was by the nameless dead that gibbered and accused in dreams. What really lay between them? She watched him as he lead them back to the church.

He moved with the tense certainty of a hunter on the trail of known prey. His gestures were fluid but controlled, when he motioned for Parker to take point and Prentiss to bring up the rear – the women were the only ones with handguns – the movements were precise and utterly clear. There was no doubt in him.

Who was he really? She wondered. She knew he had done terrible things, he claimed to have taken the title of Death of the four horsemen at one point. She shook away the doubts and misgivings. Wondering about the nature of your super natural boyfriend while in the midst of a potential combat situation was seriously unwise.

She ran a hand over her face and consciously ignored her exhaustion. She followed on Jarod's heels as Parker and Methos took the lead. Twice she thought she spotted figures following them. She hissed for the group to hold and wait each time but no pursuer appeared. Finally the Cathedral loomed before them. Prentiss felt absurdly grateful for its presence. One thing of certainty on the island.

Until they got to the doors and found them locked. No one spoke, there was no need. Clearly Old Ocee and the murderous bearded monk weren't the only inhabitants to remain behind. Parker's forehead creased in a frown as she slipped her weapon into her waistband and knelt to examine the door more closely.

Prentiss shivered and drew closer to the Cathedral using its bulk to cut the wind.

"What now?" She asked the men.

"Split up, we're running out of time." Methos grunted. Jarod frowned, they _were_ running out of time but if they split up they'd be more vulnerable.

"Parker with me, Prentiss with Jarod." Methos ordered. Prentiss frowned, it wasn't that she didn't trust Methos it was Parker she was concerned about. Parker was still a dangerous variable besides Prentiss was pretty sure Methos would cut her out of the action and risk his ass to keep her out of danger, she preferred to keep him at her side. On the other hand if Parker was paired with Jarod it was likely she'd shoot or cuff Jarod and drag him to the Centre as soon as the storm cleared. She nodded tightly, unhappy but accepting the decision as the best of a series of bad options.

Parker scowled annoyed at being separated from Jarod but one look at Methos' face was enough to still her protestations before she'd opened her mouth to utter them. Parker was far from stupid and while she was as much ice as fire she knew the cold precision in Methos' face. The icy logic of a killer planning a job, an efficient ruthlessness she'd successfully achieved in her own life when the need arose. But, whereas she had to work and focus to achieve that same level of ruthless efficiency, it seemed like a natural reflex to the immortal something akin to blinking. She ignored a sudden shiver, automatically assigning its source to the foul weather, and moved to join Methos. Prentiss nodded at Jarod and the group split up.

It didn't take them long, each clue lead to another and in less than an hour they had regrouped at a hidden entrance near the island's ancient cemetery. Presumably it lead to the walled off area Prentiss and Methos had discovered. Prentiss was bleary with exhaustion. Jarod and Methos looked haggard, both men's chins were peppered with proto-beards. Idly she wondered when the last time any of them had showered, eaten, or slept had been. She tried to count back to the last time she had and grew confused by the time zone changes.

"Prentiss?" She blinked and shook off her reverie. Methos was calling her.

"Yeah I'm here." She sighed. He didn't complain or worry only slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him, not quite a hug. She sighed and leaned against him for a moment. She wondered how it was that she could lean on him but he refused to allow her to support him similarly.

"Parker?" Jarod asked standing up from examining the door. She was gone.

"Shit." Prentiss sighed and pulled away from Methos she slipped her sidearm out of her holster and pressed it to Methos' palm.

"You two have the best shot at getting this open. I'll go find her."

"Your weapon –"

"Parker is armed." Prentiss interjected already moving toward the cemetery. She knew, if she were Parker, she'd be at the cemetery. She would be compelled to find the graves of Angus Parker's family and pay respects or at least confirm Ocee's story.

Prentiss made good time considering the weather. The storm was slackening but the rain drops grew fatter even as they fell with less stinging force and the while the wind grew less urgent it was no warmer.

She found Parker huddled in front of a weathered and worn gravestone. In the dim reflected light from sporadic bolts of lightning Prentiss could see moss and overgrown grass nearly obscuring the stone. She saw raw bright rents in the moss where Parker had pulled and scraped it free exposing the name on the stone.

Not wishing to startle the armed woman Prentiss took her time walking to Parker, making as much noise as possible. Parker struck her as the sort of woman that would resent any person that caught her in a vulnerable state. As she drew closer Prentiss read the name on the stone, Angel Parker, and spotted Parker's face. The woman's skin was ashen, eyes dull, expression slack and despairing. Alarmed Prentiss hurried to cover the remained distance and crouched next to the former sweeper.

"Angel Parker." She said after a few silent seconds had passed, only the rain filling the night with noise.

"Miss Parker, we need to go back –"

"I don't know who I am. Every time I think I'm standing on solid ground I realize it's quicksand." Parker said hollowly. She was reflexively, almost obsessively, tracing the name on the stone.

Prentiss took Parker's hands in her own and held them firmly. They were icy cold. She caught the distraught woman's eyes.

"We are who we decide to be, the choices we make mold us, we don't get to choose who we're related to or where we're raised or even what names our parents give us but we do get to decide who we are." She said firmly. Parker swallowed, blinked and stared at her hands in Prentiss' grip.

Prentiss watched as Parker drew a slow breath in and closed her eyes. The Centre agent's shoulders squared, her back stiffened her, her face went cold and a small precise sneer twisted her lips, her jaw flexed and her hands were jerked from Prentiss grip with savage abruptness. When Parker's eyes opened they were cold pools of blue. She rose and led the way back to the door without uttering a word.

As Prentiss got to her feet she wondered how often Parker did that, closed herself down and tucked herself away, more than that she wondered what agony had taught her that skill, had taught Parker that cold precision was better than emotional vulnerability, that severity and ruthless results trumped compassion. Why had she needed to teach herself to shut down and close off the world, to erect an impenetrable shield of contemptuous cruelty?

The door stood open when they arrived. Methos was in the doorway, Jarod met Parker as she returned. Parker muttered something to Jarod and swept past him. Prentiss noted that Jarod looked resigned rather than hurt or offended by whatever Parker had said.

"Will she be alright?" Prentiss asked as Jarod followed her into the entrance.

"Her father calls her Angel."

"You saw the gravestone?" Prentiss asked studying Jarod's lean handsome face. Even with a day's growth of stubble.

He didn't bother to reply just handed her weapon back to her, and gently pushed past her to head down the steep stairs. Prentiss felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She fought it back and checked her sidearm for the hundredth time before following the others.

* * *

Methos bore the monk's sword; Parker at his heels had her weapon drawn. Jarod was in the middle unarmed with Prentiss taking the rear. Prentiss felt her head start to ache a dozen steps down the stairs. She thumbed the safety off her weapon and swallowed concentrating on being aware, ignoring the exhaustion, fear, doubts, and pain plaguing her. As the group moved further down they began to string out, the distances between them increasing.

Methos paused and put a hand to his head. He felt…it wasn't the same feeling that heralded the presence of another of his unique species but it was certainly something. A creeping, crawling, subtle probing. Something was curious.

"Stop." He said firmly. The presence seemed to still.

He glanced back up the steps, he didn't see Parker she was far enough behind him that she was lost to the darkness. He swallowed and adjusted his grip on the blade. It was a fair blade but he would have preferred his own in its stead. He moved forward carefully. The probing presence grew stronger, renewed its examination.

"STOP." He ordered. This time it didn't recede. A crashing blinding white mindless agony ripped through his skull. He screamed high and hollow.

* * *

Prentiss' head shot up, eyes wide as the ululating wail cut through the thick air of the passage. The voice was twisted with pain but she knew it was his. She rushed forward thumbing the safety on her weapon and re-holstering it so she could free her hands and move faster.

She burst into the lower chamber. Methos had stopped screaming. He was kneeling on the floor, upper body utterly slack, jaw hanging open, face tilted upward, expressionless. Jarod and Parker stood on either side of the passage exit also staring up. Frightened more than she could ever recall being Prentiss forced her own gaze upward.


	24. Chapter 24

Something hung from the ceiling. Prentiss forced herself to look away from it. It tugged at her senses, insisting she look. She squeezed her eyes shut and shuffled forward feeling her way like a blind woman until her finger tips brushed Methos. She gripped his shoulder and crouched next to him before opening her eyes.

His skin was dry and hot, eyes dulled as though in fever. She felt his pulse, it was racing.

"Methos?" She whispered. His gaze remained firmly fixed on the object. Prentiss looked up at Parker and Jarod. Jarod was staring at her, it clearly took great effort.

"He's alive." She said. Jarod nodded stiffly and started to walk toward her, he moved like a mechanical toy soldier or someone doing a Frankenstein's monster impression. Under other circumstances it would have been funny. Beads of sweat soon formed on the Pretender's face. He closed his eyes; she watched his jaw muscles flex with every step. Soon the beads began to form rivulets and drip from his jawline. She kept her eyes locked onto Jarod's face, willing him on.

The distance was less than ten feet but it felt like the journey took an hour. Jarod's face was wet with sweat, the collar of his sweater was dark and waterlogged by the time he reached Prentiss. She reached up and took his wrist. He sagged to the ground gasping.

"What is it?" Prentiss hissed as Jarod caught his breath in great whooping gasps and looked up at her. He was on his hands and knees.

"I don't know. Don't look at it." He insisted.

Her gaze had been drifting upwards. She snapped her focus back to the pretender's sweat wet face and closed her eyes for a moment.

"I have an idea. Cover your ears." She barked and drew her weapon.

"Wait, if it ricochets –"

"We can't stay here, I don't know about you but I don't think I can make it back up the stairs." She said grimly.

Jarod's face twisted in thought and confusion. He refused to risk injuring the others but –

The crack of Prentiss' handgun firing broke through his thoughts. He ducked to avoid a ricochet but needn't have bothered. A heartbeat after the sound of the shot the terrible pressure in his skull simply ceased.

The relief was almost as painful as the initial assault. Methos' slumped to the ground; his outstretched right hand struck the abandoned sword sending it skittering into the room. Prentiss checked her lover's pulse. It was slowing but still steady. She finally risked looking up at the object.

It was a dome. A simple stone dome, like half a snowglobe only pale and plain. The same dull grayish stone as the rest of the room and the island.

"What the fuck?" Parker demanded. Prentiss was too tired to deal with Parker's fear and hostility. She stayed with Methos while Jarod moved to reassure her.

"What the hell just happened Jarod?" Parker hissed.

"We don't know. That thing crippled us, probably some kind of low level field intended to disrupt the brain's natural field. Prentiss shot it."

"She shot it? What if it ricocheted?" Parker demanded. Jarod shrugged.

"You look like you ran a marathon." She snorted and swept past him.

Prentiss refused to move until Methos woke up or they could get him safely to the surface. The group decided to wait. They had no way to know what the weather was like up above and they were all exhausted.

* * *

Parker stretched out for a nap near the exit. Jarod took a corner near her. He didn't sleep. Though exhausted, more than he could easily recall ever being, perhaps the night he'd spent wounded and freezing scaring off hungry wolves in Alaska had been worse – he couldn't sleep.

Prentiss sat with her back to a wall. Methos' head and upper shoulders cradled in her lap. She stroked his hair out of his face and studied the room.

It was plain, squarish, judging by the tool marks on the walls it had been hand hewn. She couldn't see any wires or power source leading to the dome. Where it was cracked and shattered she could make out what looked like lumps of amethyst. She guessed that somehow the builders had rigged the amethyst crystals to conduct some energy source and create the field that had scrambled their senses.

Methos woke slowly. His body ached, he couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so battered. Perhaps the morning after killing his brothers and setting a vengeful Cassandra free…no the morning after digging Alexa's grave. The same throbbing muscle deep weariness and aching echoes of despair had been present then as well.

The cemetery groundskeeper had been perfectly willing to let the immortal do the work; a sizable cash 'donation' had sealed the man's lips. Methos wasn't sure why he'd been so determined to dig his love's grave but he had. Hands chapping instantly in the sharp wind and callouses bubbling up on his skin like obscene boils as he worked. The ground was frozen. The groundskeeper offered him the use of heavy equipment. Methos had cursed at him and continued the slow shoveling. The man had sworn he was a mad man and stomped off. When he'd finished tears were frozen to his cheeks and the old man was threatening to call the police.

He shook the memory off and tried to move. He was strangely warm; he looked up and saw Prentiss' sleeping face. He slowly sat up and bracing himself against the wall managed to stand. He felt raw, burnt through. Vague memories of fevered dreams chewed at him as he straightened and tried to study their cell. He noted Parker and Jarod – also asleep – and studied the cracked dome above them.

Why had it reacted so violently toward him? Why was he left feeling emptied, beaten and despairing? He carefully leaned away from the wall and tried to walk forward. His legs buckled like a new born foal's and he hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind from him.

Prentiss woke at the sound of his impact and moved to help him up. He rolled onto his back and looked up at her. She was struck by how very thin and pale he looked. His chin was patched with thin dark hair, eyes rimmed in dark bags almost raccoon like. He looked like a very very ill man.

"What were you trying to do?" She asked helping him up.

"Walk." He grunted once he managed to get a proper breath.

"Let's get you on your feet, lean on me damnit." She snapped as he tried to stand on his own. He allowed her to take his weight. Jarod and Parker were woken by Prentiss and Methos' conversation. The two rose and joined them. Jarod took over for Prentiss freeing her hands for her weapon. Jarod was taller than Methos, enough that it was easier for him to carry Methos than help the shorter man lurch along.

As the odd group moved forward the women drew their weapons. Prentiss stopped and retrieved Methos' stolen sword he gripped it thankfully and they moved on.

The room opened upon a large chamber, slightly smaller than a high school sports field. It was almost empty. In the center at the base of an ornate set of stairs sat three carved sarcophagi. Jarod carefully set the immortal down.

Methos steadied himself with Jarod's help. He smiled at his friend and using the sword as a cane started down the steps to the sarcophagi. The others followed.

As Methos approached the first sarcophagi another monk rose up and this time he bore a handgun. Methos twisted to shield Jarod as the monk fired.

Prentiss shouted and fired back, Parker did likewise. The monk slumped to the ground clearly dead. Prentiss raced to the men as Parker moved toward the corpse. Parker disarmed the dead monk and turned to the downed men. Prentiss was doing CPR. Parker felt an icy lump fill her gut.

The agent wouldn't bother to do CPR on her immortal lover –

Parker was racing toward Jarod before she realized she was moving. She dropped to her knees. Prentiss was pounding Jarod's chest. The Pretender was lying on his back, spread eagled, eyes wide in shocked death. Methos lay next to the Pretender, half curled in a fetal position clearly also dead. Parker registered the wound in Jarod's throat and assumed the bullet that made it had first killed Methos.

Her face was wet with tears as she watched Prentiss' futilely struggle to bring the dead back to life. A sweeping sense of horrifying devastation crashed over Parker. Like a hunk of driftwood on a stormy beach her emotions and senses ricocheted and roared into dull redundancy, numb she sank to the ground. Jarod's corpse rocked with Prentiss' efforts.

Methos woke with a wet tearing gasp and coughed blood onto the stone floor. He felt feverish and weak, worn and thin. He dragged himself to his hands and knees. He could hear diffuse sobbing and someone cursing. His vision was bleary and unfocused. He could see Prentiss…praying? No, her hands were clasped but… he blinked hard hoping to clear his vision. All at once the scene resolved and settled in his vision and he let out an animal cry of pain and grief.

Jarod was dead. He could see that at once. Prentiss blindly struggled to do the impossible. Methos caught her fists in his and held her still. He could feel her heart racing against his chest. She turned her face into him. He held her close, eyes locked on Jarod's dead face.

It was so pale and empty. Methos had seen literally countless corpses and had slaughtered thousands. And yet, Jarod's empty face…

"NO." Methos snarled. He released Prentiss and got to his feet. Walked to Jarod and knelt in the pool of blood surrounding his dead friend.

"No, not you, not like this, not so close." Methos hissed. Parker's tears had ceased.

"Leave him alone!" She hissed.

Methos looked at her, she shrank away. The immortal could feel the Horseman's madness chewing at the edges of his control.

"I didn't drag you this bloody far to see you die now." He snapped at the corpse. He thought of Violetta, Alexa, and countless other lovers, friends, children he'd known and raised as his own, each and every one had died their lives slipping between his fingers. He wondered about the people he'd been raised by, lost to the fog of his too-long memory. All the people he'd joyfully slaughtered. All the death he'd created. He thought of them all and he prayed. He prayed that of them all, of himself, that this one man be allowed an impossible thing. Be allowed to live the life he should and not be cut down.

"Please." He whispered. Raising a shaking hand he placed it on the fatal injury, lowered his head and _willed_ his Quickening to enter and heal his dead friend.

Prentiss and Parker looked on, breath held tight, tense, and intent.

He focused, used every ounce of energy he had left, every bit of training and discipline.

Nothing happened.

Methos slumped forward, soundless tears slipping down his cheeks. A crushing debilitating sense of guilt pounded him. He'd had one chance to do something right, to …fix _something_. He knew absolutely that saving one man's fate, helping one man find family and happiness, maybe even safety would never in a million million years amend his crimes…but he had to try. And now, now that he'd failed the world had lost a hero and he had once again failed to improve the world he'd worked so hard for so long to maul and misshapen.

"It doesn't end like this." A strange woman's voice echoed from the entrance. Methos' head shot up and whipped around to the source of the voice.

A red haired woman in her fifties stared down at them.

"You're his mother." Parker said softly.

The woman wore a simple lavender dress, Prentiss noted that her feet were bare, her hair unbound. She walked up the stairs with a strange grace. A dancer's grace.

"Miss Parker, you look so very like your mother." The woman said warmly. Parker stared at her. The woman looked down at Jarod's corpse. Her face slowly reformed into an expression of exquisite grief.

"You've had a hard life son. But your heart, your heart is full and warm."

Methos thought of the darkness and rage he'd seen in his friend when he confronted the enemies in his life the users, those who abused the weak and exploited the desperate. The strange perfection of the vengeance he wreaked upon them. Methos would be the last to judge Jarod harshly for it but he knew what that kind of darkness and rage could lead to, had _lived _it. So he had stayed by his friend's side to protect him from himself as much as to keep him alive for this final journey. Now, to hear the mother that hadn't held him in thirty years speak as though she knew him, well the immortal felt a sense of outrage and suspicion.

She knelt next to Jarod's corpse. She closed his eyes and brushed hair out of his face. Finally, she rose and faced them.

"It doesn't end like this, the scrolls won't allow it." She said with eerie certainty. Methos felt the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. He looked for the source of the ambient electricity.

It was coming from him.

"The scrolls speak of two persons." Jarod's mother said facing Methos.

"A man of darkness and death and one of light and love. They were foretold to arrive, here, now."

As she spoke Methos felt his Quickening oozing out of him, surrounding him, clinging to the surface of his skin like a crackling stinging layer of cellophane. Pins and needles chewed at his nerve endings. He felt a sour hot fear and the touch of panic.

"The men are foretold to arrive here together, but only one will walk away. My son will be that man." She said firmly. The certainty of her tone gave Methos hope. Anyone with that much confidence in prophecy was clearly deluded. Methos didn't care what the scrolls said. He was over five thousand years old and wasn't going to let a mad woman end his life here and now. But, he wondered, could she do it? Could she use his quickening to save Jarod? Bring him back?

But Methos' Quickening was dangerous, not just because of it's potency, Methos had cheerfully slaughtered all comers for 1300 years. In the years since his apotheosis he'd made a conscious effort to control his darker urges and become a good man but that darkness still lingered. If the darkness of his quickening combined with what Methos had seen of Jarod's own…

"Wait, please, just listen-" He gasped as the intensity of the pins and needles feeling increased. It felt like his skin was being peeled off.

"Your fate is sealed Death dies here and my son rises –"

"_Listen_ to me! You said it yourself, I spent over a thousand years as Death, what do you think my Quickening is like? You said Jarod is a man of love, you're right but he is also a man of righteous hate and a terrible darkness if you do this, just_ think_, if you do this who will become Death? Jarod or I?" He gasped.

"The scrolls speak –"

"They're a bloody prophecy you mad bitch! Have you dealt with them before? Trust me they turn in your hand they're never what you expect them to be. If you do this you'll destroy us both!"

She looked angry, at his defiance, at the truth in his words, or maybe at his apparent wish to keep Jarod dead.

"Listen let me help you, tell me exactly what you're trying to do, maybe I can keep most of the evil back, contain it in me, keep the Quickening he gets pure –"

She didn't reply, merely twisted her wrist. The fire along his flesh flared and sharpened his vision went white, narrowed and started to gray as unconsciousness beckoned. He fought it back, fought through the pain, ordered his Quickening to obey and behave. Brought the shrieking souls of his opponents to heel, reminded them of their place, they were his _food_ his source of power they did not control him. He opened his eyes. The crackling snarling Quickening had faded back into his flesh.

The eyes that met Jarod's mother's eyes were not Methos' not his alone at least, the Horseman Death looked at the red headed woman as well. Methos rose and faced the barefoot woman. A cruel thin smile filled his lips.

"Methos-" Prentiss said quietly. A stranger met her eyes. The calculating gaze made her blood run ice cold. Her mouth closed so fast and so hard she could feel the clack as her teeth came together.

"Back off Bitch, you want me to help you? Why? To what end?"

"It is foretold –"

"Shut your lying face, you tell me why _precisely_ I ought to waste my time helping you. I don't want to hear about prophecies and should bes I want to hear _why_." He hissed walking toward her. He held the sword in his hand. Prentiss didn't remember him picking it up. An air of cool menace surrounded her lover. Whatever the lavender woman had done to him had let the monster out.

"Jarod will restore balance, long ago Angus Parker made a deal with the devil, the scrolls foretold his downfall just as they foretold a chosen one, a champion, named Jarod that would salvage the Centre and right Angus Parker's crimes."

Methos laughed, great whooping guffaws.

"You..you're kidding yes? Why would I sacrifice my life for _that_?"

"It is foretold!" She shot back.

Methos smirked and shook his head at her.

"There was a time when I'd just kill you and be done with it. But _he_ won't let me." He sighed petulant. Prentiss felt a shiver crawl along her spine as she realized the 'he' Methos was referring to was, in fact, himself.

"You aren't Methos?" She asked as her voice cracked.

"He locked me away only lets me out to play every now and then usually when our ass is on the line." He snickered. There was meanness, a small petty cruelty to him that she despised. He let his gaze linger on her, leering at her. Parker shifted her weight inadvertently drawing his attention. He leered openly at her, studying her body. She set her jaw and glared at him. He grinned at her response, pleased by it. Prentiss felt sick.

His gaze returned to Jarod's mother.

"You aren't injured." He observed. The woman frowned minutely at him.

"The toothless blind bitch said you'd been shot by the monks, now why would they do that?" Methos asked with a smirk.

Prentiss frowned and tried to concentrate, to bring up the memory.

"He's right, she said you'd been injured, why would you choose to help the monks that tried to kill you and _did_ kill your son?" Prentiss asked. Her voice was hard, her words pronounced with a careful precision masking fear and anger.

The woman didn't answer, Methos hefted his sword, the exhaustion and pain he'd exhibited before the woman's meddling was gone. This version of Methos moved with grace and ease. He laid the flat of the blade on his shoulder and approached the woman with hungry eagerness.

She flinched as he moved close enough to smell her. He circled her twice then paused at her left shoulder and flared his nostrils again. He flashed a feral grin and reached up with his free hand. Twined his long thin fingers in the soft lavender cloth of her dress and then pulled hard. The gown came to pieces almost instantly revealing a white silk shift and a fresh bandage.

_He can smell blood_, Prentiss thought, she noted the fact and filed it away clinically,_ will he kill her? Or toy with her first?_

"Meth-" she started to say her lover's name. The stranger standing next to the Jarod's mother froze, turned on his heel and smiled at Prentiss. Prentiss' thoughts spun and then settled.

"_Death_, what will you do? Will you help her raise Jarod? Will you fill him with your darkness or will you hoard it for yourself?" She swallowed in a dry mouth certain that he would see through her ploy. She thought she could feel Parker moving along the wall toward the exit. Prentiss trusted the Centre operative would act in her own best interest if the opportunity arose. But, the agent recalled the sobs that had wracked Parker as she realized Jarod was dead. There was a chance Parker would help Prentiss get away from the psychotic killer.

"Why should I give up my power? Why should I _help_ this woman? Because Methos would want it?" Death asked with a sour laugh.

"You're asking the wrong question Death, why not? Why not do what _he dreaded_? Bring Jarod back, bring him back but change him, keep your power, your darkness for yourself."

Death sucked his teeth and tapped the blade on his shoulder.

"You think you're clever? Yes, you do. He's clever too. Let us say that I do as you wish. I bring this creature back to life as this pitiful woman requests, I manage to keep allll my evil for myself. What do you think will happen to your lover? It takes a great deal of strength to keep me in my box Agent Prentiss. You'll risk letting me out. He may be afraid to be around you once the bars of my cell are weakened. Maybe you'll be fucking him one day and you'll see _me_ looking back at you." He laughed richly.

"You don't frighten me." Parker said evenly. Prentiss could have screamed. She'd nearly had him. As much as she loathed the future Death painted it was a risk she was willing to take if it meant walking out with Methos _and_ Jarod.

"Really? I don't? Then what's that scent you're wearing? Eau de terror?" He laughed that same melodious laugh and moved toward her.

"Why would I be afraid of you?" Parker asked and licked her lips suggestively. Death grinned hungrily and pulled her close, kissed her ferociously and shoved her away.

"You taste like fear." He sneered.

"Are you going to waste our time teasing your dick or make a decision?" Prentiss snapped. Death grinned at her.

"I must confess. The thought of tormenting you is…tempting." Methos said and in a mimicry of Parker licked his lips and ran his eyes over Prentiss.

"I'll do it." He said suddenly facing Jarod's mother. A smile of relief, minute and gone in an instant twisted the woman's lips.

* * *

Death stood over Jarod's corpse and allowed Jarod's mother to raise his Quickening again. This time he didn't fight it, just focused on controlling the essence of it. Focused on only letting pure energy through, keeping the corrupted for himself. He grinned, savage and bloody, as the energy streamed from him into Jarod's lifeless bulk. Seconds stretched like hours. The three women waited, tense, frightened, eager as more and more light flowed from Methos' body to Jarod. Prentiss gaze focused on her lover's face. She thought she could see flashes of Methos surfacing; he was horrified by Death's decision she could see the horror and fear fill the familiar face in between Death's satisfied sneers. Finally the stream of light snapped, tendrils whipped back to Methos' body and Jarod's corpse.


	25. Chapter 25

Methos sank to his knees like a deflated balloon, his head hung low and loose, chest heaving with gasping breaths. Prentiss moved to his side.

Parker walked forward, stiff and determined. Jarod's mother still stood near his corpse, her hands were at her sides, head bowed. Long red hair draping her bare shoulders like a cloak.

Prentiss pressed a hand to Methos' back, crouched next to him. Her touch was tentative but warm. Slowly Methos sat up, he lifted his head, closed his eyes, swallowed hard then opened them. Prentiss stared intently at his face hoping to see Methos' and not Death.

He looked tired, weak, but determined. He stood slowly and looked at Jarod and his mother. His expression was sad, resigned. Prentiss knew it was Methos then and not Death. She took his hand, it was clammy.

"Rise son!" Jarod's mother demanded. Methos walked toward his dead friend, Prentiss following hands still clasped.

Parker was kneeling at Jarod's side. As Prentiss and Methos grew near Prentiss could see that the terrible wound in Jarod's throat was gone. Dried blood remained but the soft pale flesh had knit and smoothed over the damage. Not even a scar remained.

But he didn't breathe and he didn't rise.

"A neck wound…would that?" Prentiss asked the half formed question.

"Sometimes. Sometimes it…impacts things." Methos said wearily. His voice was dry and brittle but it was his. The actinic bitterness of Death was gone.

"I knew a man named Kalas, his throat was slashed by another immortal. He lost his golden voice; bore a scar until he lost his head." Methos added in the same dusty tone.

"You love him." Jarod's mother said suddenly. She was looking at Parker. Parker didn't reply, her expression was guarded but …fearful.

"Tell him that, tell him you love him, tell him he's safe and you won't take him back." She insisted. Parker opened her mouth, found she'd lost her voice.

She leaned over Jarod, stared at his face, spattered with drying blood but peaceful now. Eyes closed like a sleeping child's. She touched his cheek with a shaking hand.

"It's okay Jarod, your mother is here now. You did it." She paused licked her lips, mouth suddenly desert dry.

"I…I won't take you back Jarod."

"_Tell_ him." His mother hissed.

Jerking as though shocked Parker opened her mouth again. But no words came. Did she love him? How? She thought about their shared childhood, the dramas of their intertwined lives, she thought of Jarod quietly sending Tommy to her. She supposed she did love him, in a way.

"Jarod…please…you're…you're the only person I can trust, the only …_friend_… I… I love you." Some part of her, a fragment of the little girl that had loved ribbons and dancing hoped that Jarod would rise like a sleeping prince and win the day. But he just laid there.

Prentiss helped Methos to his feet. He moved stiffly, painfully, and once he was upright he leaned on her heavily.

"He's dead, he's human, mortal, and this…abomination you've attempted won't work. Do you really think that you're the first people to attempt to use one of my kind to bring back a mortal?" Dusty, dry, and accusing words.

"No, the scrolls don't lie, they're powerful –"

"What did they tell you? Those mad monks? They found you, yes? After they'd shot you? You missed the last boat off the island, tried to hide but they found you. What did they say? Did they promise you a chance for peace? For safety? A way for your family to be together again? A way to protect your lost son forever? You lost Kyle and they tried to kill Emily, but Jarod…you've got his clone or at least your husband does. So if you lose the grown man, well, that's terrible but you've still go the clone, so maybe, maybe if you give them what they want you'll be safe, yes? And if the monks really just wanted to help that happen, to _help_ you become a real family then what was the harm? Except, there was a slight catch, saving him would mean killing me. But it was a sacrifice you were willing to make, _right_?"

He stood taller, straight, staring at Jarod's frightened mother, she flinched at his accusing words.

"If I thought that giving all my quickening, Death included, to Jarod would bring him back I _would,_ you stupid bloody cow he's a better man than I ever was but it won't, it can't. What I am …. It can't be created, can't be transferred to a mortal."

"But it worked, his throat –" The woman objected meekly.

"Did it? It made him prettier, healed his wound yes. But I'm old enough and strong enough that a transfer like that would do that for any organic thing but what it can't do is bring him _back. _ My Quickening _is_ my soul. Whatever happens to a mortal's soul at death is _not_ what happens to ours. His body is whole I have no doubt of that. Any illness or injury will be healed but _Jarod_ is gone."

His mother looked stricken.

"All you did was get your only son killed. There's no undoing this and now that you've convinced Death to…commit this abomination I … I can't control him like I used to. "

"Jarod is dead, give him a decent burial and return to your family." He said softly.

She closed her eyes, tears streaked her cheeks.

Methos felt empty and so very weary. Parker stood. Holstered her weapon and walked to the three sarcophagi.

"I'm not leaving without the scrolls." She said tightly. Methos nodded and Prentiss helped him walk to the nearest of the sarcophagi. The trio managed to open it and reveal a dusty skeleton clad in rags. The second was the same. The third was the most difficult to open. Inside lay an ornate red wooden box. Parker picked it up carefully and set it on the lid of the sarcophagus. They'd shoved it aside just enough to get a look inside.

Methos opened it before Parker could figure out the latching mechanism. Inside sat two scrolls. Parker nodded and closed the box. She tucked it under her arm and looked at Jarod and his weeping mother.

"I'm going to destroy the Centre." Parker said. Again Methos nodded. Prentiss felt a strange sense of hope at those words. Jarod lay dead, his mother devastated, but, but if Parker had been convinced, at long last, to take a stand and destroy the Centre the evil presence that had shattered her world and turned her into a killer…then maybe it wasn't for nothing. Maybe all the pain, the effort, the misery had been worth it. Maybe.

Methos and Prentiss approached Jarod's mother, Parker waited by the exit. Methos knelt painfully, he was across from Jarod's mother. He picked up Jarod's cool dead hand and placed it on his friend's chest.

"He was a good man. He did more good in his life, in the years he was running, than most do in an entire lifetime. He wouldn't' want you to weep over him. Find your family, raise the boy the way you would have raised Jarod, he deserves it." His words were kind, forgiving. They were true but the sentiment was a lie.

Methos wanted to strangle her, watch her eyes bulge as her flesh went red, tongue protruding, and hands scrabbling at his squeezing relentless fists… but he wouldn't. Killing her would solve nothing save to strengthen and encourage Death. He hated her for that most of all. Convincing Death to siphon energy into Jarod and weaken his cage. Death knew full well that 'saving' Jarod was utterly pointless.

It was when Methos had ridden as death that he had personally investigated the potential to steal another immortal's Quickening and force it into a dead mortal. He _knew_ it wouldn't work. At best it would repair injuries, but only those on a dead body. If he tried to use his Quickening to heal an injured living person the energy would sear the mortal's mind and often result in death. Again, something he'd discovered while riding with Kronos and the others.

Kronos had laughed, assumed Methos was simply torturing his victims as suited his tastes. It wasn't an entirely inaccurate assumption. Methos – in the early days as Death – had enjoyed a bit of torture as much as any of the Horsemen, well perhaps not quite as much as Caspian had.

If that woman hadn't lured them into the subterranean temple, hadn't forced his Quickening against him and unleashed Death then…then Jarod would still be dead the monks hadn't needed her to enact their plan, she'd simply made it easier. No, killing her, as enjoyable as it would be, was pointless. Besides he enjoyed her grief more. The familiar tang of it pleased him. He wanted her to live with it for a very long time.

The monks on the other hand… if they knew enough about him and immortals to set up this temple to somehow generate an energy field that could cripple him and impact mortals the way it had, well, they would need to be dealt with. As the thought occurred to him he realized he was clenching his fist at his side, hard enough to draw blood. He forced his hand open and got to his feet.

"We need to leave. I imagine the storm is over and Parker's people will be arriving."

"We can't leave him here, they'll take his body, dissect him." Parker said.

"He's gone Parker, the man we all loved and wanted to help, to protect is gone that's only meat."

"Aren't you concerned they'll learn something from him? Find out how your Quickening healed him?"

"Not especially." Methos said honestly.

"She's right Methos, we can't leave him, he's our friend." Prentiss said.

"I can't walk out of here alone, I'm not strong enough, if we stay they'll take us _all_ back to the Centre."

"Good thing we brought extra men." Lyle said entering the chamber. Methos felt Death snarl and rise at the sight of his tormentor. Methos soothed the horseman and faced Lyle as best he could.

"What _have_ you been up to big sis?" Lyle asked. His words were precise and clipped his tone cheerfully triumphant.

Parker stared at him dully.

"Oh and just so you know I've been listening for oooh ten minutes or so." Lyle said and flashed a pearl white grin.

Methos thought back ten minutes…that was about when the transfer had ended. He imagined walking down that narrow staircase, through the hall with the shattered dome and into this room, or nearly, seeing the lightning show and hanging back. Lyle was smart and cautious he would have waited and watched, listened and learned. Death scratched at the back of Methos' mind.

The immortal made a conscious decision, stepped back from the controls so to speak and let Death loose. Death, was a pain in the ass. The day Methos had locked him away – not really a separate personality so much as choosing to ignore aspects of his own, a decision that, through the ages, had resulted in the creation of an aspect of himself as a somewhat autonomous being – Death had fought to make his presence felt and irritate his captor.

Death straightened rolled his shoulders back and grinned at Lyle. The exhaustion of Methos was replaced with eager blood lust. Death made it his business to annoy and restrain his captor, he hoarded energy and reinforced Methos' reluctance to use his darker aspects. Thus while Methos was truly exhausted Death was fresh and eager. The aches and pains of his body faded as Death contemplated killing Lyle and his men.

As Lyle had been speaking a dozen sweepers armed with sidearms, shotguns and even tasers had filed in.

"Storms over then?" Death asked with a cheerful lilt to his voice.

"For quite some time. This little hole is well hidden, the monks knew what they were doing."

"You killed them all?" Death asked.

"Sadly no they escaped apparently."

"Lyle you can't do this. I'm a federal agent and –"

"You resigned a few months ago, he doesn't exist, my sister is a traitor, Jarod is dead, the monks are dead or running and mommy dearest couldn't hurt a fly and doesn't exist in any meaningful way. You're all expendable." Lyle said gleefully.

Death moved. He was fast, freakishly so, a thousand or so years of constant warfare, combat and physical labor had made him so. He started at one end of the sweepers, slicing dodging, ducking, stabbing, throttling, and murdering. The others opened fire as Lyle ran back up toward the surface. Prentiss grabbed Parker and Jarod's mother and hauled them behind the middle Sarcophagus.

Prentiss took a knee and started firing at the sweepers. She knew Death probably didn't need the help but didn't want to have to carry his heavy corpse up to the surface. She took one sweeper in the jaw as he raised a shotgun. The man's head vaporized as one of her barely legal glazer rounds shattered his skull. She took another bead.

Parker sat shocked. The man that had lunged at her brother hadn't been the one she'd traveled with. She had realized that Death was not Ben/Methos but seeing him in action, seeing him kill… she wondered how Methos had ever triumphed over him. Ever managed to subdue that fury and bloodlust.

In less than ten minutes the sweepers were dead. Death paused to question the last one.

"Where did Lyle go?"

"A…a boat on the docks –"

"Thanks." He said cheerfully and gutted him. The man screamed and writhed until Death decapitated him.

Prentiss threw up. Nerves, exhaustion, grief, and horror overwhelmed her for a moment. She wiped her mouth and eyes, stinging with bile inspired tears. Parker took her shoulder and helped her up. Death laughed at Prentiss.

"You're pretty enough but gods how he could fuck something so weak I'll never know." Prentiss felt a dull rage and would have shot him on reflex alone if she'd had any bullets left. The carnage was absolute. Blood from the twelve dead men flowed down the steps like spilled paint. Parker was still holding the scrolls. Jarod's corpse lay still, prone on a patch of stone, his drying blood dark against the pale stone and his paler flesh as the fresh blood flowed down and touched the three sarcophagi a dull charge filled the room.

Death felt the hairs on his arms stand on end.

"Damn meddling monks." He growled and ran toward the exit. As he ran his foot touched Jarod he went rigid and froze in place. The electrical charge increased. The three women crouched behind the sarcophagus again.

Parker cried out and dropped the box with the scrolls. Her hands were red with first degree burns. As the box hit the thin pool of blood it hissed, blood searing and congealing against its surface. Parker reached to snatch the box up again afraid the blood would seep into it and stain the scrolls.

"Don't." Jarod's mother said snatching at Parker's wrist. Parker glared at the older woman and threw aside her hand.

"Wait, please, it's not over." The woman pleaded. Death was still rigid as the women watched energy arched between him and Jarod's corpse, the blood around them began to steam and give off small darts and shots of energy itself.

"Blood sacrifice?" Prentiss whispered.

Some memory tickled at the back of her mind, cued by the whispered phrase. If she wasn't facing an impossible thing and likely about to die she might've pursued the niggle. As it was she covered her face and pulled the other women closer as the two men vanished in a ball of blinding white light.

Time stretched for an eternity, lost meaning and reference. The light was accompanied by a deafening shrieking howling. It wasn't emitted by a human throat. The light itself seemed to be screaming. Prentiss forced her eyes open to slits.

She could make out forms in the light. People, men and women, most were naked, some wore simple items of clothing one or two held swords. They were swirling, whirring and spinning in a maelstrom of movement and energy.

Prentiss recalled Methos' words, about how a Quickening was a soul, and how they didn't go to the same place a mortal's soul might. A sense of gaping horror filled her. This was the fate of immortal souls, to be consumed and subsumed within the victor. No wonder her lover feared his kind, ran when he could, fought when he had to. It wasn't death he feared it was this, eternal imprisonment until his essence was diffused and combined into his murderer's. She felt ill again.

Her eyes screwed shut as the howling noise went up a notch and the light intensified. She thought she could feel Parker's hand in her own, feel Jarod's mother huddled against her ribs. Prentiss focused on the reality of the other women. Tried to block out the noise and light and chaos, her heart hammered against her ribs, a frightened bird in the base of a coal mine filling with gas. Her throat burned, she wondered if she were screaming, sobbing, or if the steaming blood was poisoning them.

As time spun away into eternity her senses shut down. She longed for unconsciousness, her body settled into a numb equilibrium and higher thought fled.


	26. Chapter 26

The strange dusty scent of hot stone tickled her nose. She remembered a journey when she was a teen. A trip to the lost city of Petra carved into stark stone cliffs. A beautiful silent and dead place, heated by a desert sun, somehow sterile and stagnant with age even as multicolored tourists shuffled through its few halls that were open to such excursions. She hadn't walked into the city content to stand before it studying its façade, imagining the people that had once lived and died there, blocking out the tropical chirping and murmurs of the foreign invaders. The scent grew stronger.

She felt warm stone under her hands and the side of her face, the warmth pressed to her flesh with bruising force but the warmth of it seemed to embrace and soften against her skin. Her eyes were heavy; she tried to open them and failed. Her fingertips scrabbled against the warm, hard and yet somehow soft stone like a wounded fly's legs on tile.

Her thoughts drifted following the scent of the stone back to her childhood again.

* * *

Her mother had been short with her, distracted during the trip by some pressing needs back at the office, frustrated that young Emily had insisted on going to the dead city and yet wouldn't even go inside it and once again flummoxed by her daughter. She loved her daughter fiercely and well but rarely understood her. She was intelligent, picked up languages almost like breathing, did well enough in school though she struggled with higher level mathematics at times… and yet, she seemed to have no ambition or at least none that her mother could decipher.

Emily knew her mother didn't understand her but she didn't really understand her mother either. In some ways they were so similar that strife was inevitable between them, adding the gulf of their fundamentally different personalities and world views and it was a minor miracle that the two women got along at all.

Emily watched the sun set over Petra warmed still by the sun soaked stones older than her own civilization and wondered what would happen to Washington D.C., Manhattan or any of the other great Western metropolises in the far far future.

* * *

She tried to open her eyes again and this time managed to slit them open enough to let in light. Her lashes were sticky and clinging to one another, glued by some unknown fluid. She recalled being very sick as a young girl, she wasn't sure if she was even school aged, some kind of eye infection. She'd fallen into a fevered sleep only to wake the next morning hysterical and convinced she was blind because she couldn't open her sleep gummed eyes.

She was sixteen and terrified her mother had discovered the terrible secret she had earned in Italy. She was standing in her mother's sitting room, the place had an air of dour importance. It was here that her mother had told her that her father was going to return to the U.S. and their marriage was over two years ago. Here that her mother told her about new postings, moving to new countries…here that she had offered Emily a chance to go to a prestigious boarding school rather than trail her mother from nation to nation.

The sad thing was Emily's mother had genuinely thought boarding school would be easier for Emiliy, that her strangely intense daughter would be happier with the structure and rhythm of a boarding school along with its steady and inflexible population rather than being dragged from post to post with her overworked barely present when physically present mother.

To be fair she'd been correct to a point. Emily would have enjoyed being able to make new friends and know that she wouldn't be leaving, with little notice, in six months or a year. She would have liked the academic challenge and even the sports program at the suggested school. She would not have appreciated the vicious hierarchy, the politics and infighting, the family heritage as the penultimate achievement. She was a born outsider, had accepted that in the last few months and since leaving her friends, her best friend in particular behind in Italy she had settled into that knowledge and worn it like a shield. Besides, there was a dress code.

She waited for her mother twisting a strand of heavily teased and product doused black hair in one hand. Whatever her mother had in mind it would not be pleasant, she knew.

"Emily." Her mother greeted her. She smiled at her mother.

She loved her, didn't resent her as she might but she was intimidated by her mother, the ruthless efficient politician and diplomat, able to open closed doors and never willing to accept no as an answer to anything. But she loved her even if it was from afar and held more than a little bit of awe.

Emily didn't reply to her mother's greeting which was just as well, the diplomat launched into her reason for asking Emily to meet her in the parlor after school almost immediately.

She paused to sit and loosen her suit jacket. Sharp efficient movements like a militaristic bird, fingers lingering at the buttons on her jacket as she studied her strange intense daughter.

"You'll be going to college in two years." It wasn't a question, had never been, a question. Emily was a Prentiss, her mother a successful diplomat her father successful in his own way. Born with at least a highly burnished spoon if not an actual silver spoon in her mouth she had always known that she would receive an excellent education.

She nodded at her mother, if her mother's gestures were those of an impatient hawk then her's were the nervous motions of a songbird in the hawk's sights.

"Have you thought of what schools you would like to apply to?"

Emily sat opposite her mother on one of the severely upholstered, hard rounded couches in the parlor. They were expensive pieces of furniture but hideously uncomfortable. Emily wasn't sure if her mother had purchased them with that in mind or merely liked the look of them.

She didn't hesitate in her reply, "Harvard, I would like to go to Harvard."

Her mother's face took this well enough, Harvard was certainly acceptable to the societally conscious political woman.

"What would you like to study?"

"Sociology, psychology, criminology." She said rapidly. She wasn't sure how her mother would take that. Profiling was still as much black magic and PR as it was a proven science but the science was there and she was good at it.

In spite of her highborn status, her family's money, and therefore, logically, her own power within the subset of the children of such people Emily had been a victim of bullying, abuse and cruelty. A lonely introverted girl, she found making friends a difficult task and her mother's constantly changing job locales had exacerbated her natural shyness, her intelligence and sense of justice had made her an easy target. Unwilling to stand by while another was hurt, or worse, join in like a mindless pack animal she'd put herself on the outside more often than not. Vulnerable she'd been victimized. But, as a victim, she had learned the hard way to unravel her tormenter's goals and purposes. Honing her natural insight she'd been able to curtail or deflect most of the hostile interest in the last years of her school attendance and now had settled into her image as a hostile dangerously competent young goth woman. A shield and a badge, she had accepted being an outsider, embraced it with an eagerness that had startled even her.

Six months ago she'd come across an article about the art and science of profiling and the violent crimes unit in the FBI where it was practiced and honed. She'd made up her mind to join it.

* * *

The light felt summer sun bright but it wasn't hot and as she watched it shifted and moved. She was fairly sure she hadn't gotten up so guessed in a bleary and barely interested way that the light itself was moving. She tried to move again.

This time she managed to brace her palms against the surface she was lying on, the warm hard/soft stone, and lever her upper body a few inches off the ground. Pausing to suck in a pained lungful of air she lifted her heavy head for a few seconds before her elbows buckled and she slumped to the stone exhausted. Her bleary still slitted vision had only managed to capture a smeared image of a humanoid figure holding a light.

* * *

School had gone easily for her then. She wasn't sure if her mother approved or disapproved or had just wanted to know that her only daughter actually had a post high school goal. She was supportive in her way. She made sure Emily had what she needed, books, tutors, so on and so forth. Once Prentiss entered Harvard their letters and eventually emails grew more matter of fact, more purpose directed rather than a pleasant exchange of affections and bonding. She graduated at the top of her class, and entered the FBI the following fall.

The Bureau was an unpleasant surprise in many ways. Throughout her life Prentiss had never quite managed to escape her mother's shadow. Several times classmates, school organizations, sororities and the like had attempted to befriend or recruit her for the power of her name and assumed connections. Emily hated politics and hated that the simply existence of her connection to her mother made her a ripe target for social climbers and plotters alike. She shot them down and extricated herself to the best of her abilities.

She had spent her life amongst politics, the half measures and back room deals it engendered. She had watched her mother's career and political life destroy her marriage and create a chasm between them. Watched her mother compromise her goals and ideals time and again in the name of the game and winning, moreover she'd seen the game trickle down amongst her peers and been a victim and pawn of far too many schemes and plays for power to eve enjoy the arena of politics or wish to join it. She despised it.

Unfortunately her refusal to play such games meant it took ten years and a cunning benefactor's meddling before she finally joined the BAU. But, once there, she'd worked hard and well and never looked back.

* * *

She moved again, she managed to raise her head and keep it up, her eyes opened wider the shifting light in front of her focused on her drowning her in its glare. She groaned and closed her eyes, felt her elbows tremble and slowly sank back to the stone before her limbs gave way. She reached forward, set her sweaty palms against the stone and pulled. Ponderously her dull, aching, unresponsive body shifted forward. The light didn't waver focused on her with all the intensity and interest of a sunlight guided by the magnifying glass of a sadistic child.

She heard …what? Footsteps? No, not quite, the scraping of bare feet? Closer. She tried to raise her head again, a trembling weakness started between her shoulder blades and quickly spread to her upper arms. She lowered herself to the stone – cool on her skin now – and rested for a few seconds. The light stayed, implacable.

* * *

Her time at the BAU had been invigorating, reaffirming, exciting and terrible fucking grim. She'd found a real family among her teammates. Her INTERPOL unit had been a family of sorts too but more the bickering at family reunions, drinking on the sly, dysfunctional family than the tight knit group she found in the BAU. Between the gore, the horror, and the absolutely stymying acts of cruelty they waded through on a weekly if not daily basis the team found the best of humanity in each other. Hotch's dedication to putting terrible people where they belonged, his pure and fierce love of his son, Spencer Reid's strangely innocent exploration of the world they all took for granted, Garcia's bright kindness and deliberately cheerful defiance of the horrors they battled, Morgan's brotherly concern and protection of every team member, Rossi's dedication to hunting a killer that had ruined every Christmas he'd had for 25 years, and his bemused acceptance of the nature of humanity that somehow hadn't snuffed out his faith in his God or his species, JJ's cool efficiency and deft handling of the mob like press while quietly and studiously wading through hip deep piles of paperwork and reports filed by desperate cops seeking absolution for their failure from the BAU, all of it filled Prentiss with wonder when she thought about it and served to affirm her own faith in her species and the things they could do when they were challenged to be greater than they needed to be. She'd found her home.

Then Methos had returned to consult on a strange case and things had…changed… fundamentally and forever. Emily Prentiss ruled her heart with an iron fist. She'd never quite shaken the shy, self conscious and hugely awkward nerdy teenager she'd been all those years ago. She remembered complaining to Morgan that she'd wrecked a date by making a Kilgore Trout joke, her delight when Morgan confessed to being a Kurt Vonnegut junkie as well. But that was a rarity. More often than not her bookish tendencies, deep seated insecurities, and dedication to her work had crippled her social ventures and prevented even the most nascent of relationships. Then he'd come into her life.

Their relationship had been doomed from the get-go. They both knew that and had fought to protect themselves and each other from its inevitable conclusion. Until Jarod and Garcia had taken them in hand and showed them there was a way to be happy in between the logic and the hectic insanity of their lives. She loved them for that and wondered vaguely if they knew about their inadvertent partnership.

Garcia had forced Prentiss to take the chance, to love Methos knowing it was doomed while Jarod had convinced Methos to offer Prentiss what he could – love but no life of peace or children, rare companionship and danger. Life threatening danger.

* * *

The light grew closer searing her eyes, she screwed them shut and put up a hand in a weakly defensive gesture. To her dulled distant surprise the light moved, she could feel it like a weigh pressing to the side of her but it wasn't focused directly on her anymore.

Again, wearily, she pried her eyes open and tried to see who was bothering her.

It was a human shaped thing, she decided after several long seconds of debate. It was crouched near her prone face. It smelled of sweat and vaguely of fear. The glare of the light lying on the ground to the figure's side obscured most of the details on the figure. A hand reached out of the glare and the darkness and pressed to her skin. It was pale white, well what wouldn't be in that potent light? The fingers on her skin were cool and firm.

She thought she should introduce herself at least, or maybe ask who the figure was, why it was there…her thoughts drifted. With an effort she brought them back to the present situation and opened her mouth.

"Uuuuuuh." She said eloquently. She managed to frown then. The figure withdrew its fingers and retrieved the light. It played over her briefly as the figure turned away. The brief contact drove her eyes shut and she shrank away as though the light burned her skin.

The figure retreated and paused then moved toward her again. She heard garbled words and all at once there were hands on her, hurried grips and awkward handling brought her off the stone. She opened her eyes spurred on by panic. There were two people holding her slung between them. Her feet dragged on the stone with a low wuuuuur of protest. Some part of her objected to this, she was not meat and she would not be dragged away half dead by strangers. She mustered her energy and thoughts and attempted to escape.

She freed one arm and managed to twist in the second figure's grip, the shift in her weight broke that person's grip as well and she crashed to the stone ground with a groan of pain. She tried to stand then and found her limbs had lost their strength again and refused to obey her. The figures muttered and barked to one another and then she was being lifted again. This time their grips were firm, secure and certain. They hauled her up, the vertigo of the movement washed over her and drove her into blissful blackness.


	27. Chapter 27

He'd made a promise once, he thought brokenly, it was an important promise and, at the time, he had fully meant it, a sacred oath sworn with a murdered man's blood, sworn solemnly and truly. But… he'd broken it? Hadn't he?

His thoughts shattered apart and drifted like a toy boat striking the shore in an angry sea.

What had he sworn? Why? It had meant so much at the time, been his anchor, his certainty until…what?

Cold wet water tugged at his legs. His thoughts shifted and buzzed drunkenly. His head lolled on a boneless neck and he stared at a white blue sky.

The promise tugged at him, chewed at him nagging and mewling, a hungry puppy with sharp milk teeth worrying at his skull.

He heard the soft susurrations of waves on rocks, at first he thought they were the soothing sounds a mother might make to a fretting child. How did he know that noise? He didn't remember his people, his first death … He remembered a child in his arms, only weeks old, fingernails bright in firelight tiny digits and limbs smooth and soft and terribly fragile. The child sobbed hungrily and its mother had gently pried the child from his arms making those noises….

The water tugged again urgent and icy. He groaned resentfully and tugged his right leg free of its grasp. It bent at the knee and sat like a strange mound of earth just within his line of sight. The crashing of the waves seemed to be nearer sharper, harsher, no longer the hissing murmur he'd grown used to. He sat up stiffly felt broken bones shift under his flesh the terribly familiar grinding of broken bone on broken bone, oddly akin to the scraping sound of stone on stone only muffled by agony.

He gasped sharp and wincing and ceased moving.

He could see the shore now. He was lying sprawled on a field of fist sized rocks slanting down to the crashing sea. How had he gotten there? He remembered…

He frowned and felt the pulling on his skin that spoke of dried blood tugging at his flesh. He raised an arm clad in wool and soaked in seawater and wiped at his face, the arm came away with flakes and smears of long dried blood. He grimaced and looked down at the sea again.

Was he on Carthis? Carthis…

All at once everything came back to him. He closed his eyes, rolled onto his side and emptied a bellyful of seawater onto the rocks. He lay gasping focusing on the hot pain in his chest and legs as battered and broken bones and organs were twisted and wrung by his movements. He leaned back and felt the pain and pressure ease.

He'd…he'd become Death. He laid back on the rocks and stared up at the white sky and wondered if it would be better to simply lie there until the tide came in and swept him away or the Centre's goons found him, better that he inflict himself on the Centre or the sea than take up a sword and ride into suburbia.

He laughed a wet gasping sound, the sort of sound a landed fish might make if it had a voice box. Frightened by the noise of his laugh he fell silent. What had he been thinking of before? A broken promise…

He let out a sighing chuffing half chuckle of pain and resignation, how many promises had he broken? Really now, how many? Did he know? Could he count them all?

Did it, in the end, fucking _matter_? A snarling savage voice hissed in his inner ear. The venomous contempt of the voice startled him.

_Death? _He thought wildly.

_Who the fuck else?_ Death snarled. Methos closed his eyes, concentrated on his broken body tried to block out the snarling presence, he could feel it coiled, like a snake in a box that had been shaken and starved until it was so mean and savage it would take out your eye in an instant.

_I'll put you back in our box-_ he thought madly.

_Ha ha ha fucking try it you goddamned pussy._ Death chortled. He felt ill again wished he could expel Death the way he'd dealt with the seawater in his gullet.

_I'm never going away again, you're stuck with me…forever._ Death cackled gleefully.

Methos felt a cold rage then.

_No, no you're not, I put you away once –_

_I've grown stronger, meaner, …more refined. You locked away half your nature when you put me away, half of who you are. You _made_ me and then you locked me up. Did you ever wonder why you're so tired all the time? Why you can't seem to run from your enemies as well as you used to? Do you think I've just sat here twiddling my thumbs for the last thousand or so years? _ Death giggled manically.

Methos had a mental image then, of a mad impish monkey clinging to his limbs, pulling on his legs to trip him, stealing his wallet, harassing him at every turn. Minor annoyances that built up…

_Thaaaat's right! I've been here the whole time…brother…_

"No, you're _not_ him." Methos croaked.

Silas had been the only Horseman that Methos had wondered about healing, about…converting? To a life less bloody, but he hadn't. Instead he'd killed him and helped Macleod kill Kronos. That failure haunted him nearly as much as his past as Death, if he had only taken the time, made the effort then maybe Silas would be here now, at his elbow, his loyal friend. Instead his Quickening had joined the countless others rattling around in Methos. Gone for good.

_No, I'm not but I can be._ Death giggled again.

Methos closed his eyes and let out an exhausted breath. He didn't have it in him to put Death back in his box, he knew that the same way he knew that he'd broken his right femur and had been dead for the better part of a day it just was.

"I'll take you back." Methos muttered tasting the salt on his lips.

He felt Deaths' joy then, giggling and gleeful and bloody.

Methos closed his eyes felt his body healing and allowed himself to drift into a light trance. He had some things to negotiate with his lesser half.

When dawn broke over the lonely stretch of stony beach Methos woke with it. He felt …oddly energized. He'd wondered at some point just when Death had actually become a thing with an intent and malice all its own. He'd referred to 'the horseman' and 'Death' as separate beings, considered them separate for…well… eight hundred years? Longer? Just when had he started doing it?

Somewhere along the line it _had_ become something…separate, not a personality, not really but a will, a force, and it had tried to have its way. When Methos refused to kill for the pure delight of it, when he ran, left town, slipped away in the night rather than killing another immortal for another pointless quickening that side of him, that _part_ of him had grown enraged had pulled at him, weakened him, distracted and even depressed him. Now…

He felt new, somehow fresh. He had faced what he was and, instead of locking it away like a forbidden drug he had accepted it. He had owned his deeds and the part of him that he had tried to deny the part that had _loved_ the violence. He _was_ a man of learning and generally of peace, always had been but he was simultaneously the sort of man that enjoyed hot flowing blood on his hands, fear in the eyes of the people around him, he liked it when they avoided him or handed over their goods, their women, their young men without his having to even utter a word. He liked power,thrived on killing that was all _him_. He couldn't blame some amorphous past self, he couldn't say, oh but that was then this is now I am a new man! No, because it was still him, under all the new thoughts, the philosophies, under the, knowledge and lust for life he was still Death, still the Horseman and locking it away had done him no good.

Now, he rose. Body whole, sweater streaming and dripping from his water logged clothing, hair plastered to his skull giving him a rattish appearance with his large nose and narrow build, he walked calmly up the beach and toward what he hoped was civilization. The constant weariness and melancholy he'd accepted as his lot for…as long as he could easily recall was strangely absent. He felt oddly naked and strangely guilty for feeling…happy? Hopeful? Lighter?

He thought of Prentiss and his heart sang, if she lived….if she lived he _would_ retire from the Game. He would put aside his sword until she left him or died and only then would he re-enter the lunatic merry go round of slaughter that was his version of a normal life. And if an immortal came, if he or she tried to draw him into the Game, tried to hurt Prentiss…well then he would just have to make an example of them wouldn't he?

* * *

"She'll live if the head injury doesn't kill her." Raines wheezed. Parker sighed and glanced at the ghoul to his right.

"Any word on my daughter?"

"The traitor has not been found as yet. Mr. Lyle is following up the leads we do have."

"When he gets back send him after Jarod or Ben, leave Angel to me." Parker grunted.

He didn't trust Lyle and his daughter to avoid killing each other without some oversight. He had yet to fully accept that his Angel had really intended to betray him. Until he heard it from her or was presented with more proof than simply Lyle's report he would…reserve judgment. Hope, was not a word he had much truck with but he would not judge her, not yet.

Parker watched the former federal agent sleeping in the room below.

"We've induced a medical coma while her brain recovers." Raines wheezed as the silence grew heavy.

"When will you wake her?"

"Four days maybe less depending on her recovery."

"Will she recall anything useful?"

"Possibly, traumatic amnesia is likely but she may recall something and in time she may recall everything."

"If she's a maybe …."

"Ah Mr. Parker remember that Ben loves her. He'll come for her. "

Parker's expression clouded when he was reminded of the man that had shot him, nearly killed his son, broken into his duaghter's home, escaped from the Centre twice and generally rivaled Jarod for being the largest pain in the ass Parker had ever come across.

"Then keep her alive and make sure he knows we have her." Parker growled.

* * *

He didn't contact the BAU, didn't see the point to be honest. Twice he had put his fate in their hands, he wasn't really sure why now. Maybe… maybe he'd been attempting to be kind, to be merciful to his enemies. Allow the cops to do their own job for a change and clean up the mess. But clearly that had been an error. Now, it was his turn, now he would tear the Centre down brick by brick, dynamite its secret files, set its spider kings and their webs of intrigue and suffering on fire, listen to them scream and pop in the fires of his righteous rage….

He realized he was smiling, and it was not a kind smile.

Methos had been civilized, had been kind and courteous and all it had earned him was broken bones and misery. No, they had tasted his mercy enough, they would now get to sample his rage.

The train drew up to Seacouver station, Methos blinked and shook off his reverie. He'd made his decision and would adhere to it. Jarod and Prentiss were, for all he knew, dead. Regardless of their fates he was going to destroy the Centre and kill everyone that tried to stop him. Prentiss and Jarod were better than him, purer, more innocent strangely. So, for their sake he would do the things they couldn't or wouldn't he would bar the doors and fire the buildings and wipe their vile presence from the planet. The time had come to shoot out the sun.


	28. Chapter 28

Parker wasn't proud of running from Carthis like a beaten dog. She had known it was required at the time and had been willing enough, still... it left a sour salted taste in her mouth. The only thing that alleviated that shame – she knew she'd left Ben and Prentiss for dead – was Jarod.

He was alive, impossibly, and that was the problem. She didn't understand what had happened in the temple but she knew the pretender was impossibly wonderfully alive and more importantly he would want to know how and why. At the moment he was sitting at a table, it was the farthest table from the door and caught the most sunlight. He was soaking the sun in, a menu spread open in front of him but otherwise forgotten. She had left to use the restroom and track down a waitress, now she stood watching him, her mission forgotten.

Jarod had always been …innocent somehow. Not stupid no…not even naïve really. He was aware of the terrible things that happened in the world and the things people did to each other, had to be in order to work through his simulations. But in spite of that he had captured the joy and wonder of the world, something that most people learned to trample on and overlook by their teens. Somehow he had managed to find and hang on to the magical parts of the childhood he'd never had, even while running for his life. She'd read the reports, had spoken to Sydney at length and had a good idea of just how skewed his worldview might be but still, she wondered about his stability. Some of his little pranks and jokes were...terribly dark. She thought again about Ben's words in the temple, his warning. Was it true?

She shook herself from her thoughts and waved down a waiter as she sat opposite Jarod. He looked tired, he'd allowed his hair to grow longer than it had been on Carthis, now it was almost long enough to be pulled back and bound. He hadn't shaved in days but the stubble hadn't made him any less attractive. There was something wild and unchecked about him anyway, but looking shaggy on the outside somehow exacerbated the effect.

"Ready to order?" She asked carefully perusing her menu. She didn't have an appetite, hadn't had much of one since leaving the island. Jarod admonished her to eat, she had an ulcer and going hungry wouldn't do it any good after all. So she smiled and shoveled in food at appropriate intervals but she hadn't been really hungry in ...well, three weeks.

Since the temple Jarod had been prone to long periods of quiet thought and was easily startled from them. He didn't remember much about the island or dying, just arriving at Carthis after that it all melted and blurred. Parker wasn't sure if his mother had survived the Temple, wasn't sure and didn't see the point in worrying him. He'd asked about Prentiss and Ben and Parker had admitted that she didn't know what had happened to them. He had yet to ask about his mother, she was hoping he didn't remember seeing her at all.

For days he'd insisted they go back, find out for sure. Prentiss pointed out that it wouldn't be safe and if anyone else had survived that they too would be hiding or possibly captured by the Centre. So eventually, reluctantly Jarod had agreed to wait.

Parker had a plan, it was half formed but, well, if it worked they would both be free for the first time, for the first time _ever_.

"Grilled cheese." Jarod said suddenly, startling her for a change.

They ordered easily enough and Jarod sat studying her.

"What?" She asked her usually harsh tone was softened slightly.

"What happened on the island?" He asked. He had asked her several times a day since waking up in a hotel room wearing ruined clothing and nursing a pounding headache. At the time she'd given him the barest outline of events, a bottle of aspirin, a towel and new clothes. He hadn't asked how she knew his precise size. But, since then he had continued to press for more details.

Parker still wasn't sure how she had managed to haul Jarod, semi-conscience, off the island and onto Ben and Prentiss' rented boat. She had managed it, barely, she'd gotten the boat started nearly sobbing with exhaustion and left the island behind. Even if she had _tried_ to go back for the others she knew she wouldn't have made it a quarter of the way back to the Temple before exhaustion dropped her as sure as any bullet and then, well then, they'd all have been caught and what good would that have done?

It had been a rational decision, the correct decision, she and Jarod were in immediate danger, the others assuming they'd even survived weren't going to be in as immediate danger as she and Jarod…

"When will you tell me?" He asked voice suddenly harsh and angry, not petulant, never that. His eyes flashed a red hue, she was startled at first until she realized sunlight was reflecting from the laminated menu's surface and into his eyes casting that strange light.

She sighed and scrubbed at her tired face.

"Jarod, it doesn't matter –" She attempted.

"Yes, it does." He said implacably. It did matter, and that was the fuck of it, if she'd been able to convince him it didn't...but no, it did, she couldn't lie about that had hardly tried to.

She bit her lip and studied her menu. She knew she would have to tell him but she'd hoped to avoid it longer.

Their food arrived granting her a temporary welcomed reprieve.

"Parker –"

"I'll tell you, but, but not here…in the open." She said with an exasperated sigh. Honestly she wasn't sure how he'd react to her decisions or how she might react to him. Violence, tears, accusations, certainly yelling were all possible. Hell, likely. She had abandoned his best friend after he'd saved Jarod's life, left his mother and Prentiss to die in the ashes….

* * *

Methos stood under the same tree he'd sat under before taking his suicide walk into the Centre's main building weeks ago. He was amused that the tree still stood, unmolested, and unguarded. He had taken a cab and paid the driver off nearly an hour before. Still, he stood.

He had thought over this decisions, considered alternatives, tried to think of what he might have done before his recent …change of heart and, in the end, he figured he would have done nearly the same thing, maybe not so violently, maybe a touch subtler and with a correspondingly lower body count but in the end the message would be the same.

He took a drag on the cigarette he'd been nursing and let out a slow breath. He wasn't sure why he'd started smoking again. He did it from time to time, enjoying the burn of the smoke, ignoring the foul mouth it produced; maybe it was his way of trumpeting his immortality without actually wearing a sign or engaging in some similarly idiotic method.

He stared at the burning ember at the tip and was suddenly annoyed by it. He stubbed it out on his left palm and threw it into the grass. He shrugged his coat close and ran a hand through his hair and over his torso. The gesture was one of nerves and preparation. He was heavily armed.

Methos wore a thin lightweight bulletproof vest that had cost him nearly six figures. He was armed with flashbangs the size of lipstick tubes, a dozen or so throwing knives, two nine millimeter semi-automatic pistols with glazer rounds – recommended to him by Prentiss, oddly, since they were not legal for law enforcement use – a collapsible sword based on a design provided by a friend, six spare clips for the handguns, a garrote – wrapped around one wrist – his cargo pants were lined with panels of the same material that made up his vest, in the various pockets he carried a small amount of plastique (about two pounds enough to do significant structural damage) along with the detonating materiel required to use it effectively, a first aid kit – for anyone he might find or himself should he need a quick patch up - four of the six extra clips, and half a dozen pez dispensers.

They were his little joke. Jarod liked to leave them behind in his various squats and lairs. Something about the little candy toys tickled him pink. So Methos would leave them for would-be rescuers and survivors to find. It would be his … salute to Jarod maybe, or maybe it just made Methos happy to think of the juxtaposition, to remind them that Jarod was a gentle soul. Jarod was incapable of deliberately killing another human being, even the evil puppet masters behind the Centre; he just wasn't wired that way. Methos however, or at least the new, no the _old_ version, the very oldest in fact, very much was.

Satisfied his gear was present Methos started walking to the gate. It was after sunset so it was closed, in fact the complex as a whole appeared largely empty. Methos was certain that was a bit of a myth. The core of the Centre was almost certainly working late so to speak, assuming they ever left. He had a feeling that Parker, Lyle, even Raines were still there. As he walked to the gate he popped a pez candy into his mouth from a dispenser with a grinning generic skull and smiled cheerfully.

* * *

Lyle was discussing the hunt for Jarod and Ben when the lights went out. A full hour had passed since Methos had slipped on to the Centre compound during which the immortal had busied himself planting his plastique at appropriate locations - guard shacks, exits, structural weak points and the like - and getting into the main building.

Willie dutifully rose from his seat to investigate the power loss. The sweeper usually sat at the desk in the waiting area leading to Lyle's office it was convenient for security and gave Willie a place to work within earshot of his master's voice. Willie listened for any signs of violence or chaos in the now eerily silent building then called the security center while moving to draw his weapon and protect Lyle.

"Status?" Willie asked into his handset as he handed Lyle a radio the same as his own. It was standard procedure. If the two men were separated by an intruder or Lyle needed to contact anyone else within the Centre he would be able to. Lyle sighed and clipped the radio to his belt.

"Beta team is investigating." The security center crackled back. It was a woman's voice rendered flat and emotionless by the popping snarl of the radio.

"Sir we should leave the building." Willie insisted.

Lyle looked annoyed but didn't argue. Willie was his personal bodyguard and right hand man for a reason, he had a nose for trouble and the skill set to handle it, so rather than piss on Willie's value as a security operative he obeyed immediately. Lyle retrieved his coat and allowed Willie to lead the way out of the office.

Lyle realized something serious was occurring when Willie tried the fire exit and realized it was locked, no not locked but chained shut. Lyle felt a thrill of fear and drew his own weapon.

"Ben?" Lyle half asked half suggested. Willie smiled a thin twisting smile devoid of humor but rife with a dull primitive hunger. Willie despised Methos and lived for the day he could place the man in chains or put a bullet in him.

Hurrying after the sweeper Lyle wondered if his father had managed to evacuate and how Ben -if it was Ben- had managed to kill the Centre's power supply. The system was doubly redundant. There were two generators each of which could run the entire Centre for a few hours while between them they could keep the entire complex on half power for a week. _He got the blueprints,_ Lyle realized _if he's done that…shit everything could be vulnerable_.

Lyle had taken a look at the Centre's plans and blueprints after Methos' first escape. They'd been useless to him. Even after hiring an architect to walk him through them he couldn't figure out how the strange creature called Ben had been able to spend so little time studying them and yet found holes he could drive a metaphorical bus through. He hated Ben, not simply because he never screamed for him, not simply because he was a freak of nature incapable of dying, no, he hated Ben because the man was _smarter_ than Lyle. Not in everything, no, or Lyle would not have been able to track him to Carthis, but he was smart enough, dangerous enough, that he frightened Lyle. Lyle liked to make a point of killing the things that frightened him.

"This way sir." Willie hissed quietly and led Lyle down a little used maintenance corridor used to keep workmen and cleaners from inadvertently wandering into areas they shouldn't be or distracting Centre personnel from their work. Lyle felt a bead of sweat crawl through his scalp like some scaly sharp legged insect and tried to control the hard cold knot of terror centered under his belly button that was sending sharp knives bowels shrinking fear to the rest of his body.

They reached the end of the hall and Lyle waited with sweaty palms and a tense sphincter as Willie cracked the door and looked for any intruders. Lyle relaxed a hair as Willie leaned back and nodded an all clear.

Then two pale hands shot through the gap and snapped Willie's neck with a sound like dry branches popping in a camp fire. Willie slumped bonelessly to the ground and Lyle let out a startled sharp scream and opened fire without aiming. Firing twice at the door where the owner of those pale hands had to be Lyle. Lyle then turned and sprinted back toward his office. He had a closet that could double as a safe room, why hadn't Willie told him to stay there? Stupid son of a bitch had gotten himself killed! Lyle thought wildly as he fled.

_Just as well,_ Lyle decided, _I would have had to fire him after this_. He raced with the speed of a high school football star that hadn't let himself go soft, with the speed of a man in mortal terror, arms pumping, knees rising past his belt, head tucked down, he churned toward his office.

Lyle didn't relax until he was in the closet and the steel door had locked into place. Then he let out a slow shuddering sigh and began to suck in heaving gasping breaths of air. His radio crackled.

"Mr. Lyle?" The voice was nearly overwhelmed by snarling crackling static made worse by having to enter the steel room.

Lyle stared at the radio on his belt as though it were a rattlesnake that might strike if he moved. He licked his suddenly bone dry lips with an equally dry tongue and kept trying to catch his breath though he unconsciously slowed his breathing hoping to make it quieter.

"Miiiiiiiiiister Lyle?" The voice sing-songed. He knew that voice, the weirdly British lilt, the burr in the lower registers, the rumble of it when it was raised in anger. His hand moved automatically, it pulled the radio from his belt and hit transmit.

"Where the fuck are you?" Lyle hissed with a half hysterical laugh. Terror was hammering at his guts again. He remember catching a bullet, he remembered how Ben had _never_ screamed, not even when Lyle had gotten creative and for the first time he wondered about the kind of person, the kind of _creature_ that could have the sort of discipline to bite back all those screams.

"Oh poor Mr. Lyle, do you really think I don't know about your little hidey hole? I mean, really now, did I or did I not steal the plans for this entire cesspit? Hmmm?" Methos laughed. Lyle felt his fear intensify, something he hadn't thought it could do. He could taste blood in his mouth, his breath roared like a steam bellows in his ears as he struggled to stay calm and catch his breath. He closed his eyes.

"Good luck getting in here." Lyle said with a forced sneer. He was beginning to catch his breath and relax in the tight familiar confines of his closet.

"Security, this is Mr. Lyle, report!" He barked. Hissing buzzing popping static replied. He called four more times before giving up. Ben had probably jammed him or disable the radios or god only knew what. He was on his own now.

Lyle's secret, well one of them, was that he liked small spaces. As a boy he'd been beaten and chained in a tiny shed and since then the smaller and meaner the space the safer he felt, dirt floored with a bowl of food in the corner like a dog was preferable but he could deal with a grander design. His home was worth more than most people made in a lifetime but hidden in the garage was a tiny little hovel designed to his exacting tastes. It wasn't the beating and chaining that had made the need for such spaces so strong, no, it was that once he was in his shed no one could hurt him. The shed was too small, the space too tight for his adopted father to get to Lyle without Lyle being able to fight back or reason with the man. So now, locked in a tiny closet with an immortal lunatic hell bent on murder and vengeance somewhere outside, he felt calmer than he had any right to. In spite of the yammering terror battering at his thoughts he managed to force his lurching brain into coherent linear thinking.

He checked his weapon and counted his remaining bullets, he had a fifteen round clip and carried one in the chamber which left him with twelve rounds in the clip and one in the chamber now. Lyle closed his eyes and concentrated on calming himself and catching his breath. The fear remained, he knew it would, but he would focus and push through it. He was a Parker after all.

Lyle took one last deep shuddering breath and turned off his radio. There was no sense in engaging the incensed creature on the other end and the noise of it could reveal his location. He carefully set it on the floor of the closet, again concerned about making noise, which he knew was absurd. If the creature really knew about the closet he could be waiting outside already. He could be in the reinforced paneling of the ceiling of the closet or waiting in the hall outside the office he could be -. Lyle cut off this line of thought, he would be paralyzed with fear if he kept wondering.

Instead he double checked that his safety was off and opened the door. On one level it was stupid to leave the room, _here_ he was safe and he certainly felt better with the steel around him. But then, Ben knew he was there, knew where to find him or at least Lyle suspected he did and even if he didn't the man could set the buildling on fire. Lyle didn't want to burn to death or choke to death. So Lyle would leave and try to flee. He knew better than to try to face Ben on his own, he'd watched twelve combat blooded sweepers armed to the teeth fall like mown grass before the man. Lyle would not make that mistake, he would slink away certainly, but he would slink to live another day.

* * *

Methos watched Lyle leave his cage. He was standing in the shadows by Willie's desk. The dead sweeper's work area was immaculate as Methos expected. Lyle, Methos noted, wasn't entirely tactically useless. He swept his office carefully before moving into it, never let his guard down and remembered to slip off the safety. But he didn't think to look through the glass wall, to really _look_ or he would have seen Methos silhouetted against the white wall. Granted the wall was gray at best but Lyle surely couldn't have missed him if he'd simply looked. But the killer didn't.

Methos smiled, a too tense brittle expression more at home on a Halloween mask than a human face. His instinctive urge demanded that he rein Death in, keep him under his thumb but he couldn't anymore, not since the beach. Still, there _was_ control. Methos slipped out of the entrance area and into the hallway beyond because he _would_ kill Lyle, that was certain but it wouldn't be an act of depraved joy, no it was a necessity, a chore. Like taking out the trash, getting the carpet cleaned or cleaning out the refrigerator after a long weekend.

* * *

Lyle made it pretty far really. He stepped over Willie's cooling body, ignoring the familiar stench of death and loosened bowels, he regretted the loss of Willie, he'd spent a few years breaking Willie in, discovering how to manipulate him and testing his loyalty. He dreaded the work he would have to put in to mold his next hireling.

He cleared the hallway and entered, he'd debated taking off his $700 loafers but wanted their weight and edge if he had to fight the killer stalking him. He knew if it came to that he would only be delaying his death or praying one of the security teams stumbled on to them, assuming they were still alive. He moved into the hallway beyond Willie's corpse, he only had a few feet to the service elevator now. He allowed himself to smile.

Methos waited in the elevator, he cocked his head listening for the soft scraping hiss of Lyle's expensive shoes on the tile of the hall. It was very, very faint but he heard it. Smiling Methos dragged himself onto an abandoned workman's cart and climbed onto the top of the elevator. The elevator was an antiquated design. A solid base with the rest a cage fashioned from two inch bars of steel. It was strong as hell but it looked risky and weak, it was intimidating, like the rest of the Centre. Methos levered himself onto the roof of the elevator, squeezing painfully through a slightly wider spacing in the bars. He clung to the top like a hungry spider and waited for Lyle to enter.

He supposed Lyle might back out and try to go back to the stairs but they were still chained and he doubted Lyle would be thinking clearly enough to avoid the gleaming well lit escape route. If he did Methos didn't mind, there were plenty of others to hunt, to punish, to …extinguish in this haven of depravity. He'd already wasted more than fifteen minutes hunting this worm.

Methos held his breath until Lyle stepped into the elevator and hit the lobby button, he kept his weapon in hand and didn't relax at all until the doors closed and the elevator started to move down. Then Methos dropped through the gap in the bars and half landed on Lyle.

Lyle let out a screeching shout of startled fear, oddly similar to the noise he'd made when Methos snapped Willie's neck, and went for his weapon. Methos slapped it out of his hand with his free hand and pistol whipped him in the face with the other. Stunned and half blinded by blood Lyle let out a strangled cry and lunged at Methos. Methos laughed, an oddly cheerful noise more suited for a sunny park and a good game of football - and struck Lyle in the side of the head with the pistol again. Lyle staggedered against the elevator doors and tried to clear blood from his eyes. Methos was impressed, he'd expected Lyle to give up or go down by now. He struck at Lyle now, not to incapacitate him but to hurt him. As he struck he thought of the agony the man had inflicted, not just on Methos but on his other victims. Young women seeking a better life unfortunate enough to fall into the handsome cannibals sights.

Fourteen long seconds later Methos broke Lyle's neck. He held the cannibal in his arms, like a lover, as the light faded from his eyes and they clouded over in death. The doors dinged and opened onto the lobby. Methos dropped the corpse and slipped out into the darkened marble cavern. The security guards had already locked down this floor and were moving to the higher levels. Why they hadn't locked down the service elevator he wasn't entirely sure. His best guess was that either they left it on deliberately, to funnel any intruders or straggling employees or, and he thought this was more likely, they were so used to ignoring and excluding anyone using that elevator that it never occurred to them to consider anyone using it a threat.

Methos had work to do.

He slipped to the main doors and applied a half fist full of plastique to them, placing it so that it would weaken the façade and hopefully render the doors not just useless but force the supporting structure of the wall to sag and threaten upper floors. He ghosted across the lobby and to the doors entering the fire stairs. He moved upwards, hungry for retribution.

He absently wondered if that hunger was Death's bloodlust or his own outrage. He scolded himself for again thinking of them as separate things.

"All habits take time to break." He muttered barely audible.

As he headed up he wondered if Sydney had received his last second warning and managed to get himself, Broots and hopefully Angelo out of the building. He hoped so but he wouldn't stay his hand for their sakes.

When he re-entered the main area he could hear a sweeper team nearby. He scowled and glanced at his wristwatch. He had time to deal with them but there were two more people on his list, Raines and the senior Parker. He had thought about getting Sydney, Broots, and Angelo out before enacting his plan but the sad truth was he wasn't sure they would cooperate. Sydney's loyalties were terribly divided and he abhorred more violence, Broots likely would have cooperated his daughter came first in his life and he wouldn't risk getting killed and leaving her to her mother's so-called care. Angelo had been the sticking man was an empath and assuming that Methos could even find him there was absolutely no way to know if Angelo would attack him, help him, or curl up and ignore him. Especially now that Methos was more himself and thus a much darker and colder man. No, Angelo could even run from Methos and end up getting killed. It was up to Sydney.

He decided to let the sweepers live for now, instead he pulled the pin on a flash bang and hurled it down the stairs and closed the door on them. He ducked into an office until he heard the grenade explode and the sweepers predictably chased the noise. Methos opened the office door and slipped out into the hallway, only to nearly run into the rear guard from the sweeper team. There were two of them. He managed to take them down quietly – leaving one alive but it cost him time, and earned him a massive gash in his exposed upper right arm. He fished out the first aid kit and used a military grade bandage combined with a clotting agent, anesthetic and antibiotic to staunch the blood flow.

He moved along quickly. There was a safe room in every major office and Methos suspected that the ailing Raines, deprived of an elevator, would have retreated to his. Methos moved quickly pausing only to avoid another team before moving on. He _wanted_ to kill every living thing on the Centre grounds, carpet bomb it, salt the ground, but he was intelligent enough to realize such an effort would get him killed – if he were lucky – or simply captured, again. And, having killed Lyle, he was certain that imprisonment would be a short lived agony wherein the senior Parker did his damndest to kill Methos permanently.

So he moved quickly up one level and over two wings to the rejuvenation wing where Raines' kingdom lay. The layout had changed from what he remembered of it. Still, it shouldn't be too hard to find Raines and put his twisted existence to an end. He'd set the plastique on the front doors on a timer, he had about seven minutes before it went off. Methos would prefer to have Raines and Parker dead when it went off but it wouldn't be an insurmountable disaster if he had to spend some additional time in the Centre's sprawling complex. He moved quickly noting which rooms held patients, which were labs or storage and so on until he had a rough idea of the layout. Most of the rooms were locked. He glanced in through wire reinforced windows at confused looking patients and staff before moving on.

The fact that no one looked alarmed, only confused interested him. Did they run regular drills or fire alarms?

He paused and peered around a corner with a mirror he fished out of his pocket. He grinned when he spotted two armed sweepers in front of one door.

"Bingo." He whispered and a hungry wolf grin split his lips. He rolled his wrists and a throwing knife dropped into each hand. He walked around the corner dropped to one knee and threw the knives as one sweeper reached for his radio and the other raised his weapon. Each knife hit its target in the throat. The two men dropped to their knees guttering, gasping and scrabbling futilely at their throats. Methos stood and trotted to the door.

He peered in and saw a female patient, swaddled in bandages. He frowned and glanced at the corpses. He vaguely wished he could question one of them. Instead he pulled a file out of U shaped plastic box nailed to the wall, apparently lab results and the like could be deposited there. He skimmed through the file conscious of the time he was wasting but all he read was information about MRI scans, brain swelling and so on with no identifying information. He frowned and replaced the paperwork. He made a mental note of the room's location and moved off to continue his hunt.

Methos found Raines, finally, beyond three locked doors and six guards. He killed five of them but left one alive. It wasn't deliberate, the woman went down fast and easy and he'd been forced to kill the others before he could finish her. By then Raines was trying to run so he had left her behind.

Raines was in the lab where Methos had originally been brought before Lyle got his mitts on him. The steel table with shackles and manacles was still there, along with the ominous drainage hole, that had ended up saving his life when Angelo lead an injured Jarod to it.

Methos shook off the chilling memory and continued to pursue his prey. Raines was running, as well as his battered emphysemic body _could_ run at least. Methos enjoyed smelling the man's fear and panic, enjoyed watching him race from room to room trying to lock Methos out. With the power down Raines had to use simple deadlocks, none of which was immune to the keys he'd stolen from Lyle's corpse. Finally Raines cornered himself in what looked like a research lab.

"It…comes…to-"

"This." Methos finished for the wheezing man.

"Yes, I suppose it does. You must admit Mr. Raines, you've well earned this."

"I…I…suppose…I have." Raines agreed oddly.

"I should kill you slowly, I should take pleasure in it." Methos observed dryly as he approached the skeletal scientist.

"Perhaps you should." Raines agreed again. Raines' apparent calm was bothering Methos. Wary the immortal backed away from Raines and slipped a throwing knife strapped to his vest into his left palm.

"You aren't afraid."

"No, no I'm not because I have something you very much want."

For some reason, maybe because of the guards, Methos' first thought was of the well guarded female patient.

"Prentiss?" He asked. Raine smiled, instead of negotiating with the balding scaly junior Mengele Methos threw the blade, paused to watch it enter Raines' wheezing throat then turned on his heel and raced back through the maze to the room holding her. As he ran he tried to remember what the file had said, could she be moved?

He made it to her door just as a team of sweepers arrived. He let out a strangled war cry – more frustration than anything else – flung a flash bang at the pseudo-soldiers and followed it up with the last of his knives. Two sweepers drop immediately, taken down by randomly thrown knives. He dropped to one knee making himself a smaller target and drew one of the handguns. He held it in two hands and coolly aimed and fired. The last four - still stunned and panicked - sweepers fell.

Methos rose and tried the door, it was locked. He let out a growl and shot the door, it took two shots to blow the handle out then he forced it open and staggered into the room.

She was asleep, or maybe drugged. He leaned over her, trying to see her face, trying to be certain it was really his Emily. As he leaned over her he felt rather than heard the plastique in the lobby go off. The explosion rocked the building and buzzed through his body. Her eyes fluttered and opened wide, panicked.

"Shhhh." He soothed. She stared around wildly before pausing at his face, he watched her pupils shrink and expand as she brought his features into focus and recognized him.

"M…Methos." She spat with some effort. He smiled at her relieved on a fundamental level. She was alive.

"Can you move at all?" He asked. By way of answer she tried to sit up. It was useless she could barely move.

He made a strangled desperate noise and moved to her side, he pulled IVs free and scooped her into his arms. She made soft noises, of pain or protestation he couldn't be sure. He would not leave her behind, not with the building weakened, not with Lyle and Raines dead. No, Parker senior would only have her to take out his wrath on. Better she die in his arms than endure that.

She leaned her head against his chest, her breath tickling his neck. He began a tactical retreat, tossing flashbangs ahead of him and around corners, incapacitating and sneaking by the teams rather than slaughtering them as he longed to do.

He made it to the lobby level with Prentiss safe in his arms and chaos behind him. There were two teams in the lobby, he'd chained off all the other exits. They were standing guard while the other exits were opened. Methos saw them first, literally backpedaled and carefully set Prentiss on the ground where she'd be safe from stray fire. Then, he gripped his last flashbang in one hand and one of his pistols in the other.

Sliding into the lobby on his knees he flung the flashbang at the concentrated group, shielded his eyes as it went off and then opened fire as the confused sweepers scatted and tried to return fire.

To his frustration he realized that these must be the combat veterans, the blooded warriors of the sweepers. Oh about half fell to his initial assault but the rest spread out, took cover and carefully returned fire. He swore and ducked behind a corner of wall, it was shit cover, worse if they pressed the assault Prentiss might get hit. Methos leaned out and eyeballed the sweepers. He ducked back, closed his eyes, memorizing the layout of the lobby and the sweepers then rose into a ready crouch and launched himself around the corner.

He fired with some accuracy but mostly kept his enemies under cover. He took a running jump over a circular security desk in the center of the lobby, dropped down on the lone sweeper sheltering there, killed him with one well placed shot, leapt over the other side hit the ground, rolled and killed another sweeper before fetching up against the rubble of the front door. Methos quickly reached for a replacement clip as four surviving sweepers popped up from their cover and opened fire.

Pulling a clip loose with one hand he dropped his empty weapon and drew the second with his now free hand. He fired back killing one and forcing the others to cover; he ejected the partially spent clip and slipped the fresh clip home.

For a few seconds silence settled.

"You don't have to die here today!" He shouted getting to his feet and sprinting to the desk where he slid to a halt and crouched.

Silence.

"I just want to walk out of here with my friend! You let us go and you get to live!"

More silence. He knew,as they certainly did, that even if they lived through today allowing him to leave - never mind the murders he'd just comitted they couldn't know about that yet - would certainly earn them a death sentence. Still, he had to ask right?

As he shouted he slipped around the desk trying to see the trio of survivors. A bullet whipped past the curve of the desk missing his face by inches. He laughed and sagged back into cover.

"I'm giving you a chance, that's more than you're going to give me, right?" He shouted. He reached under his jacket and shirt, grasped the handle of the collapsible sword – it was basically useless if it came to sword to sword combat but it had its uses especially for someone that had spent centuries wielding a sword – and drew it free. He whipped his hand out to his side with a twist of his wrist. The blade telescoped out and locked with a noisy clack. It was more like a sharpened Asp baton than a real sword. He glanced over the top of the desk and saw two of the sweepers were retreating to the hallway where he'd left Prentiss.

With a snarling roar, a barely human noise, he launched himself over the desk, arcing over the center space and landing on the opposite side from where he'd started. The two sweepers were twisting to bring their weapons to bare on him.

He snarled and whipped his sword out with the speed of a rattlesnake strike; it contacted the nearest sweeper's hand, crashing into it with bone bruising force and splitting as much as cutting the flesh on the back of her hand. She made a strangled noise of agony and clutched at the hand as Methos raised his handgun and shot her partner in the face. He moved the pistol toward her and felt something hot slam into his right ribs.

He let out a gasping grunt, shot her and twisted toward the source of the impact. The third sweeper stood holding an assault rifle his finger still squeezing the trigger. Evidently the weapon was empty or it had jammed. Methos felt the familiar trickle of hot blood down his side, pooling where his shirt and jeans met. He let out a hiss. And felt the hand holding his Asp sword go numb, the weapon clattered to the ground. The sweeper smiled then went white and tried to run as Methos brought his handgun around and fired, hitting the would-be killer three times in the upper body. Methos watched the sweeper fall uncertain if he'd killed the man.

Methos gasped and clutched at his ribs with his working arm, something had penetrated the vest. He could feel a hole, jagged and gushing blood from his chest. A regular bullet wouldn't make a wound like that, it wouldn't even puncture the vest, no only a high speed round would penetrate it but it wouldn't leave a wound like this. The human body was roughly analogous to a sponge in that anything that punctured it certainly left a hole and damaged the structure but the soft spongy nature of the flesh closed around the torn flesh, most bullet wounds didn't actually removed or pulverize flesh so much as force it aside at high speed. But this round, it had been something special. A bastardized hollow point, or a glazer maybe, something with stopping power preceded by an armor penetrating round, the combo he realized dumbly, was killing him.

He managed to walk forward, staggering drunken steps, it took his full concentration not to fall over or lose his balance as the terrible numbness spread. Prentiss was curled on her side on the battered marble floor. She looked up at him as he approached.

"I'm so sorry." He whispered voice thick with tears as he dropped to his knees at her side. Sweat dripped from his paper pale face, eyes luminous and dark green against the pallor. Prentiss sat up, her head throbbed with dull agony but she wasn't going to give up, not now.

She managed to get to her knees and leaned against him somehow the two clung to each other on their knees supporting each other. He was gasping now, great whooping breaths, eyes wide as he stared into hers. His blood soaked the thin hospital gown she wore, pooled on the marble floor around them.

"Shhh just breathe." She whispered. He closed his eyes and tried to do just that. His brain spun and whirred with panic and despair. The image of Prentiss sleeping soundly cradled in his arms, her face lit by moonlight came to him. He saw her laughing at him as he tried to make them dinner during one of his stops in D.C., he'd failed abominably and they'd ended up ordering Chinese. He opened his eyes and looked into hers. He smiled then and scrabbled at his hip reaching for the first aid kit he'd raided earlier to patch his arm.

Prentiss followed his gestures, spotted the corner of the kit protruding from his cargo pocket and jerked it free. Inside she found another bandage similar to the one he'd used earlier only significantly larger. Working together they managed to get it in place and tied securely though he let out a whispering scream as Prentiss pressed it hard against the wound and tied it as tightly as she could. The material in the bandage's putty like surface stung as it went about clotting and cleaning the wound. He leaned forward, head angled down gasping and trying to stay conscious as his quickening and the bandage went to work. Sweat dripped from his nose and chin.

Time passed at a crawl, only Prentiss' hand on his face, the agony in his chest and his desperate will to survive, to get out, to get Prentiss out kept his chest heaving and heart beating. Finally he felt the agony begin to dull, the pain faded to a sharp insistent throb. Raising his head he met her eyes and immediately got to his feet. They found that Prentiss could stand and after another long handful of moments he managed to hold her in his arms. His steps were labored, careful, and determined. But slow, oh gods were they slow. He was nearly at the freshly freed emergency exit when a new team arrived. He guessed they had been guarding Parker until it grew clear that Methos' rampage had been cut short by other concerns.

He felt bone weary as he turned to face the six armed sweepers. Methos moved slowly setting Prentiss on the ground. He raised his hands as he faced them. He was largely unarmed, his pistols lost, the sword across the lobby on the ground, the flashbangs used up, no more throwing knives, all he had was a garrote and his bare hands. It would, he resolved, be enough.

Methos staggered toward them, playing up his injuries, he didn't have to do much acting. Spidery knives of pain throbbed up his chest and torso and down to his legs from the healing wound.

"On your knees!" One of the sweepers snarled. Methos noticed in an offhand way that the man had a colored button on his collar, rank? Radio transmitter?

Methos blinked at the sweeper and moved forward two staggering steps. He wobbled like a man at the end of a three day drunk and nearly fell forward.

"Cuff him." The lead sweeper snarled. A man stepped forward, slung his rifle over his shoulder and slipped a pair of cuffs off his belt. Methos let him get close enough to touch Methos' wrist and then he moved.

Snake fast as usual but ultraviolent, he drove his palm into the sweeper's face, shattering his nose and driving the cartilage and bone into the man's brain, a difficult injury to inflict. The man went boneless and slumped to the ground. Methos dove at the other five. He aimed for their knees, dropping below their natural aiming height and moving so fast they didn't have time to fire with any accuracy. A shot went off and someone screamed a curse. Methos struck the leader in the knees hard and fast enough to stagger the man. Pinwheeling his arms backwards to catch his balance the man shouted something Methos didn't take the time to process the words. He whipped around and rose on his toes driving the back of his head into the jaw of another sweeper, a satisfying CRACK rang out and the woman reeled away gasping.

Methos twisted and jerked a sidearm off the woman's hip and turned it on the other three. Three shots, three dead, and then he heard another shout. He turned to face its source. The leader had managed to avoid being crippled or killed and had scuttled toward Prentiss. Now he stood over her, his assault rifle aimed at her prone body. The woman with the shattered jaw had recovered enough to take a weapon from one of her dead comrades. Her eyes were bright with pain, shattered jaw hanging loose, a string of drool already forming at the corner of her mouth.

Methos felt sweat trickled down his spine, felt blood still seeping from the rapidly healing wound to his side. His heart raced.

If he shot the man standing over Prentiss he might fire before he died, but if Methos shot him that would give the woman at his back a chance to ether shoot Methos or Prentiss.

"Drop your weapon you fucking freak." The man hissed.

Methos did, sort of anyway, he threw it at the man while dropping to his chest on the ground. Instinctively the man moved to avoid or catch the weapon flying at his head – even if it didn't go off it was four pounds of fast moving steel – as Methos moved the injured and terrified sweeper at his back fired twice. He felt the first bullet slash the skin and muscle of his back, felt the air of the passage of the second on his cheek and then …it was silent.

Methos looked up from his push up position on the floor and saw that the woman's shots had hit her boss. The sweeper standing over Prentiss _had_ caught Methos' weapon but he'd also caught two slugs to his chest. As Methos watched his mouth opened and closed fish like, confused or offended he frowned at his chest and then slumped to the ground as his knees buckled.

Methos looked over his shoulder at the woman. She was frozen with the horror of what she'd inadvertently done. Methos loosened the garrote wrapped around his wrist and mustering his strength and adrenaline he sprang to his feet and slipped the thin wire around the woman's neck before she could do more than cry out and try to duck. Ruthlessly he hauled back on it, pinning her fingers under the wire, he planted a knee in the small of her back and _hauled_ back with all his strength, the muscles in his forearms bulged and rippled, cords stood out on his neck. Death by garrote could be a misery, he knew, so he worked to make it as fast as he could. Finally her limbs went into death spasms rattling on the floor and battering his body with spastic frantic strength until they relaxed into the dead weight of death.

He released her body and staggered to Prentiss. She lived, he saw, with grim joy. She was looking up at him, pale, sweat stippling her skin. Together they got her to her feet. Methos, in spite of the combat and killing or maybe, _because_ of it was stronger now. The bandage on his ribs was now redundant, he paused, holding Prentiss with one arm, and peeled the bandage away. The flesh underneath was whole. He swung Prentiss into his arms, held her to his chest and walked toward the exit.

"You're such a show off." Prentiss whispered hoarsely as they walked through the exit.


	29. Chapter 29

_**Epilogue**_

"_I can't forgive it." _

"I never asked you to, I didn't even ask you here, you came on your own."

A silence, so thick and palpable it could nearly be tasted fell.

"_So that's it? It's done and you aren't sorry?"_

"Why would I be? You never understood that, maybe it's something you never can understand. I am not sorry for it and given a chance I would do it again." His voice is sad and tired.

"_Monster."_ He says, tasting the word more than applying it. _  
_

"I am what I am. A man out of time, you forget, you children with your technological magic, you forget what real life, what real living is. For the majority of our existence as a species a full stomach was a luxury and killing another in cold blood was almost expected. That is the existence I was forged and honed in, that's what I know."

"_You turned away from it._"

"No, I locked it away, I denied it and in doing so I nearly died. "

More silence thick and wet. An almost electric charge between them, fueled by fury, hurt, and grief.

"_I trusted you, I loved you."_

"I did what you couldn't I've made you safe now and forever .You're protected."

"_At what cost?"_

"One I'm willing to pay."

One reached for the other and paused, hand half raised before lowering it.

"_I never wanted this."_

"It's a gift, freely given, my choice. You can be with your family in peace give Jacob the childhood you should have had." He says it matter of fact and draws a deep breath of night air at the end as though bracing himself.

"_He's with them he…he's filled the void. They don't need me now."_

"But they want you."

Now they did touch a brief brush of fingertips on cloth.

"_They want Kyle. I…failed them I can see it in their eyes. With no one to hate or blame my father is lost. He spent his life working for this and now, now he has Jacob and my sister and I only remind them of Kyle … and what should have been I think."_

"Do you remember traveling? Being on the road? I miss that."

Soft sounds of tears now.

"_I never told you about waking up in the hospital. I was so confused and frightened and then I remembered you and I … I was okay. I figured out what you'd done. I never thanked you."_

"You don't have to. It was my decision."

"_I don't know if running into you in D.C. was the best or worst moment of my life."_

"Well, at least you have a life to live and decide that in."

"_Thank you."_

Silence again but now….now it's fuller and gentler a blanket of comfortable quiet rather than the stifling cloud of accusatory silence.

They grasp each other's hands then, one knowing he will likely never see the other and can't forgive the blood shed on his behalf, the other content with his actions and wondering if just maybe there's more to this story down the road.

Jarod listens to his friend's fading footsteps. Listens to the door to the roof open and close and a few minutes later a car door slam on the street below, a car engine hiss and rumble to life, barely audible over the distant din of street traffic and pull away, its tires on the battered street below louder than the engine. And it is only then, as the car turns at the end of the street, that the headache he'd been nursing for half an hour finally fades away.

_**A/N: There it is folks. I…I kinda lied I ended up combining the endings I had in mind. It's an unhappy ending though not the tragic trainwreck I'd originally had in mind and it's not the love fest Scooby doo ending I debated using, that would be a different sort of sad I think. Anyway, here it is, for now, I may edit it and clean it up at some point. Enjoy **_

_**A**_


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